


Homecoming

by Balerion_the_Dread22



Series: Homecoming series [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aegon and Rhaenys live, Alternate Universe, Elia and Rhaegar have an unhappy marriage, Elia lives, F/M, If you hate R + L do not read this story, Jon is Jaehaerys Targaryen, Lyanna Lives, Lyanna is Rhaegar's second wife, No annulment, Pro-Targaryen fic, Rhaegar Lives, Rhaegar is not mad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-09-28 19:47:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17189249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balerion_the_Dread22/pseuds/Balerion_the_Dread22
Summary: Rhaegar wins the Battle of the Trident, but now he has to heal a realm that was torn apart by Robert's Rebellion.





	1. Rhaegar

**Author's Note:**

> There are no such things as 'wars between absolute good and absolute evil' in human history. Instead, there exist wars between one subjective good and another subjective good, and conflicts between one righteous faith and another righteous faith. In the case of a unilateral war of aggression, the aggressor would believe in its own righteousness. That is why wars have never ceased. As long as humans believe in God and in righteousness, there is no way conflicts would ever disappear.  
> (Legend of Galactic Heroes Volume 2: Ambition, Chapter 7)

**Rhaegar**

Rhaegar woke to a world of pain. Every part of his shoulder hurt as he tried to roll to his side. The room around him was drenched in pale light, falling through the high narrow windows. Outside he heard the dribbling of rain against the window panes.

“Your Grace,” the voice of an elderly man echoed in his ears and soon enough he felt rough fingers moving over his face. Above him he found a familiar face, wrinkled and weathered like old leather. “Do you recall what happened?”

Rhaegar recognized him at once, but he had a hard time speaking. He also had a hard time in recalling what had happened. The last thing recalled was Robert Baratheon’s warhammer coming down on him. Then he recalled only darkness.

“Maester Gaemon,” he managed to croaked and felt another surge of pain, running down to his back. “Is the battle done? Have we lost?”

The man gave him a twisted smile and brushed his hands over his bandaged shoulder.

“The battle is done…the rebel army was routed after the pretender Robert Baratheon fell to Ser Barristan’s blade.”

Rhaegar shuddered and recalled how he had collapsed from his horse and the water had drenched his heavy armour.

“Where is Ser Barristan?” he asked. “Is he well?”

“He is hurt, but alive,” the old Maester replied calmly and held a cup to his lips. “Do you wish to speak to him?”

Rhaegar nodded his head and eyed the cup with mistrust.

“What is that?”

“Milk of the Poppy,” the Old Maester explained. “Against the pain…it will help, your Grace.”

Rhaegar gritted his teeth and drank the milky liquid. It helped to douse the pain in his shoulder, but it needed a Maester and one of the servants to help him up.

Rhaegar had never felt more shame. He had underestimated Robert Baratheon and nearly paid with his life.

Still, he felt a hint of relief. Now only one more enemy remained, his Lord Father King Aerys.

“My Prince…,” the familiar voice of Ser Barristan Selmy compelled him to turn around. “I mean your Grace.”

Rhaegar couldn’t help but to laugh when he heard this. I _have yet to win the crown._

“Your Grace,” he repeated an gave the old knight a pained smile. “I have yet to win the crown, Ser Barristan.”

Rhaegar had yet to take a look at himself, but he doubted he looked better than Ser Barristan. His face looked pale like ash and his bandaged head told him that Robert Baratheon had given him a hard fight.

The old man didn’t answer. He simply leaned against the wall and gave the Maester a gracious smile.

“You may leave us, Maester Gaemon. I shall speak to _his Grace_.”

“Of course,” the old Maester replied and left the room, leaving only Rhaegar and Ser Barristan.

Hearing the old knight repeat this title made his blood freeze.

_Could it be?_

“Why are you referring to me as the King, good Ser Barristan? Have I not yet to claim this title as my own?”

Ser Barristan didn’t answer at once. He manoeuvred himself to the table placed near his bed and sat down in the cushioned chair.

“Do you know where we are, your Grace?”

“Castle Darry,” Rhaegar replied and swept his gaze through the room. He recognized the tapestries and the Myrish carpet. “Is Ser William well? And Ser Jon Darry? Did he live? I saw him wounded…What of the others?” he continued, but stopped when he saw the sad look in Ser Barristan’s blue eyes.

“Only I remain…Ser Jonothor was slain and Prince Lewyn perished from his grievous wounds.”

“Gods be good!” Rhaegar muttered and brushed his unharmed hand through his hair. He couldn’t even look at the old knight. “What of the rebels? Maester Gaemon said that the rebel army was routed.”

“Maester Gaemon speaks true,” Ser Barristan replied held his head with his right hand. “Robert Baratheon’s death broke the enemy’s resolve. Some of the rebels fled, some we captured and others joined our side when they saw that the battle was lost. We captured Eddard Stark and Lord Hoster Tully. Only Jon Arryn and the Blackfish were able to flee.”

 _Lya’s brother_ , he thought and felt a hint of relief, though he couldn’t allow himself to show it too openly. Lya had always spoken warmly of him. He couldn’t allow any harm to come to one of the last Starks. His father made killed enough of them. _Lya would never forgive me if he died._

“Where is Lord Eddard?”

“He is here,” Ser Barristan told him. “He was wounded and I had the Maester attend to his wounds. Lord Hoster was handed to Lord Mooton…he swore that he would guard him with his life. I also dispatched Lord Redywne’s men to accompany him to King’s Landing.”

Rhaegar nodded his head, trying to take in all this new information. There was still so much to do and all he wanted to do was to take a pinch a sweetsleep and forget about the pain in his shoulder.

“I thank you,” Rhaegar said at last. “Do you know the whereabouts of Jon Arryn and the Blackfish?”

“Jon Arryn must have fled to the Vale and the Blackfish fled back to Riverrun. The Lords Rygers, Goodbrook and Ser William Darry gathered their men and pursued the Blackfish, but we have yet to hear from them. I suppose the Blackfish will try to secure the position of Lord Hoster’s young heir.”

“Aye,” Rhaegar agreed and nodded his head. “What of the Northern troops?”

“Those that weren’t killed or captured fled in company of Jon Arryn, but I doubt they will stage another attack in the near future, especially now that we have Lord Eddard.”

“Lord Eddard has a younger brother,” Rhaegar countered and lifted his head to search the old man’s gaze. “But I have to agree with you, Ser Barristan. There are more important matters to attend to. Tell me now…Why are you calling me King?”

Ser Barristan sighed deeply, a grievous expression taking hold of his face.

“King Aerys is dead, slain by Ser Jaime Lannister’s hand…Lord Tywin holds the capital.”

“What of Princess Elia and my children? What of my Lady Mother?”

“They are well, your Grace.”

Rhaegar nodded his head and fell silent. _The Seven be blessed_. _Aegon and Rhaenys are safe…and Elia._

His Lord Father’s death stirred different feelings in his chest.

All these years he had suffered under his father’s madness and now, and after all his foiled plans for rebellion, it was Tywin’s golden-haired heir that killed the monster.

It was so absurd that Rhaegar couldn’t help but to laugh.

He laughed and laughed, pain spreading through his arm and body. He laughed so much that he hadn’t even noticed the tears spilling town his cheeks.

Once he regained his composure he lifted his head to search Ser Barristan’s face.

“May the gods forgive me that I rejoice over my Lord Father’s passing.”

Ser Barristan gave him a mortified look.

“But your Grace…Ser Jaime slew the King…he,” he stuttered, but Rhaegar cut him off.

“He should be hailed a hero,” Rhaegar finished for him and pulled himself up. _He must think me mad_ , he thought when he read Ser Barristan’s face.

He barely managed to stand, but hearing of his Lord Father’s death had renewed his vigour and drive. “I need to speak with Lord Eddard Stark…at once.”

Rhaegar read disapproval on Ser Barristan’s face, but he didn’t protest.

“Of course,” he replied and rose to his feet. “Let me, call for the servants.”

Leaning on two servants and young Lord Lymond Darry, Rhaegar was led to Lord Eddard Stark.

 _Lya would kill me_ , he knew as he found Lord Eddard Stark’s illuminated form behind the bars of the cell he had been placed in. He looked well, probably better than Rhaegar, who had a hard time standing upright.

 _I am a King_ , he thought bitterly. _But I couldn’t even defeat my enemy. I might have won the war, but in truth I am nothing more than a beggar. I should hand Ser Barristan the crown or maybe Ser Jaime? What a thought!_

“Your Grace,” Lord Lymond’s soft voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Shall we remain?”

“No,” Rhaegar replied and winced at the weakness in his voice. Lord Eddard Stark’s grey eyes met his across the room. They were full of contempt and cold as ice. “Leave us. I doubt he can harm me now that he is kept behind a cage.”

“Very well,” their distant voices ringed in his hears as he stumbled towards the cage. He had to balance himself against the stone wall and he had fastened his cloak around his shoulder to hide his battle wound.

“My Lord Stark,” he said and tried to keep his voice as emotionless as possible. This man was his enemy, even if he shared Lya’s blood. “We need to speak.”

“What about?” the young man snapped, his greasy hair falling into his long gaunt face. “My raped sister? My murdered father and brother? What else can you take from me?”

The bitterness in his words, dimmed Rhaegar’s mood, but now was the time to speak the truth, a truth neither Eddard Stark nor Robert had known of.

“Your sister is well,” he replied, allowing his voice to take a softer tone. “It grieved me to hear of your brother’s and father’s deaths, but that was my father’s works not mine.”

“What say you? Well?” Lord Eddard Stark asked, his grey eyes narrowed against the torchlight. “How can she be well after you robbed her in the vilest manner?”

“Nay, I did not rob her, though it is understandable that your brother believed that. It was my Lord Father who sent his men after her, but I was able to save her before they could harm her…,” he tried to explain, but Eddard Stark’s rage must have overwhelmed him in the heat of the moment, his voice taking a wolfish tone.

“Why would the Mad King take my sister?”

Rhaegar ignored his hostile tone and stepped towards the cage.

“Because the Knight of the Laughing Tree was her,” he explained and met Eddard Stark’s gaze. “You may ask Lord Howland Reed and your brother Benjen…they can confirm my story. I never stole your sister nor did I rape her. My intentions towards her are true and honest…I love her and she carries my child…I wed her under the Old Gods…she is my wife.”

Eddard Stark’s knuckles turned white as he tightened the grip on the bars of his cage. His face had changed an even paler colour and his lips trembled.

His mouth opened and closed, but no sound left his mouth. A look of horror and understanding took hold of his features.

He remained like that for a long time, frozen and emotionless. Then, as if all strength had left him, he tumbled backwards and sat down on the wooden pallet.

Rhaegar waited until he spoke on his own accord. He deserved so much.

“Why did you not come forward?” Eddard Stark asked and blinked back the tears rolling down his cheeks. It was strange to see this wolf-like man cry, but then Rhaegar had laughed when he heard of his Lord Father’s death. _I must be going mad_ , he thought. _Mayhaps Lord Robert damaged my head instead of my shoulder. Am I turning into a monster like him?”_

And yet Rhaegar could only give him the bitter truth.

“By the time I we heard of your brother and father’s death the rebellion was already in full swing,” Rhaegar gave him the bitter truth. “Do you think Robert Baratheon would have laid down his weapons and sued for peace? I think not. And my Lord Father would have cut off my head if I dared to return to court after foiling his plans. He only allowed me to return after he _needed me_ to fight his enemies.”

Eddard Stark didn’t speak out against his words and remained silent for a long time as if to ponder over his words. At last he brushed his tears away and gave Rhaegar a look that could only be described as pained.

“What now? What will happen to me?”

Rhaegar sighed deeply and cleared his throat.

“I wish I could set you free, my Lord, but my enemies would see it as a weakness. However, there is a way you can help me to end this war. Write to Jon Arryn and convince him to lay down his weapons. Lord Robert is dead and his brothers sit besieged in Storm’s End. It is only a matter of time before the castle falls…,” he trailed off.

“I fear I cannot help you, your Grace. I shall not sell out a man, who guarded me with his life. I owe him so much loyalty.”

Rhaegar felt no anger, only sadness. _Forgive me, Lya._

“Very well,” Rhaegar replied and gave Lord Stark a hard look. “But your noble sacrifice won’t be of much use, my Lord. I shall write to Lord Arryn myself and remind him that the life of a hostage is dangerous thing. Since he holds you dear I am sure he will soon see reason.”

“Do what you want,” he heard Eddard Stark’s gruff voice. Then he shrugged his shoulders and averted his gaze. “Leave now. I need my rest.”

Rhaegar knew that this marked the end of their conversation and left, climbing up the steps where he was greeted by young Lymond Darry.

“I have need of quill and parchment,” he said before the man can even mutter a single word. “And need my horse readied…I shall leave on the morrow.”

“But your Grace!” young Lord Lymond protested as he led him back to the solar, where they found Ser Barristan Selmy. “Maester Gaemon advised rest…,” he continued, but Rhaegar silenced him with a wave of his hand.

“Ser Barristan,” he said, some of his old strength returning to him. “Gather our men…we shall ride on the morrow. I shall write to Mace Tyrell and ask him to dispatch men to meet us on the road. I cannot face Lord Tywin without an army behind my back. It is time to go home.”

Ser Barristan dipped his head, a weak smile curling on his lips.

“Of course, your Grace.”

…


	2. Elia

**Elia**

Elia watched as the riders poured into the courtyard below, the three-headed dragon joined by the golden rose of Highgarden. She recognized Rhaegar’s black armour, the red three-headed dragon emblazoned on his back the only bright speck of colour. He always liked to wear black, but not only because it was the colour of his house, but also because he was one of those people who preferred to dwell in the shadows.

 _You are going to wed a man of the Night’s Watch_ , her brother Oberyn had remarked after he had first laid eyes on Rhaegar. Back then she found his quiet character endearing and would have done everything to please him, but now she felt only resentment stirring in her heart. She had begged him to stay, to forget about the Stark girl, but he was insistent on defying the King and rode off to save her. _You bloody fool could have killed us all._

Elia had no delusions about what the rebels would have done to them had Rhaegar lost this war. _Tywin Lannister would have turned his cloak without a heartbeat_ , she was sure and shifted her attention back to Cersei Lannister. Elia wanted to send her away, but Queen Rhaella deemed her good company and no doubt wanted to flatter Tywin Lannister.

“I shall speak alone with my husband, Lady Cersei,” she informed Cersei Lannister and the rest of her ladies. “I ask you to leave me.”

They obeyed without protest, not even the proud Cersei Lannister. She felt the sudden urge to call for Queen Rhaella, but then she had felt rather sickly this morning, due to her early pregnancy. Whether the Queen was happy about these circumstances or not Elia couldn’t say, but she certainly didn’t complain.

It was the creaking of the door and a familiar voice that roused her out of her stupor.

“Elia…”

Elia turned around, but did rise to her feet. Aegon’s birth had left her weak and she didn’t want him to see her trembling legs. She was also glad that she had followed Queen Rhaella’s advice and sent the children Dragonstone. Her parting with Rhaegar had been full of resentment and she doubted their reunion would be any better.

“You are back,” she stated matter-of-factly and met his gaze. “I heard about your victory at the Trident.”

“Ser Barristan’s victory,” Rhaegar corrected her and pulled down his cloak. His shoulder was heavily bandaged and he carried his arm in a sling. He grimaced as he stumbled towards her, kept his distance. “I nearly died.”

“You are strangely outspoken,” she remark. “Was it the brush of death that changed you so?”

“Perhaps,” Rhaegar replied, his voice distant and sad. “Elia…we need to speak about the future.”

She shuddered, knowing very well who he was referring to.

“So you managed to save the girl from the King’s henchmen?” she asked, unable to hide her resentment. “Sadly, your foolish endeavour was for nought. The war happened anyway, because this foolish man Brandon Stark was mad enough to challenge the King’s wrath.”

“Don’t speak ill of him,” Rhaegar chided her and balanced himself against the stone wall. Sweat was rolling down his brows and his breathing was lightly laboured. “He thought his sister raped…I would have done the same for my sister had she lived.”

“Don’t change the topic,” she countered in a challenging tone. “Now tell me…What of the Stark girl? Is she alive?”

“Aye,” Rhaegar confirmed coldly and searched her gaze. “She is alive and she had my child.”

Elia had prepared herself for every possibility, but it still hurt.

“What do I care about the Stark girl’s bastard,” she replied and fisted the seam of her dress, trying to hide her bitterness. “What about our children? Have you thought about them?”

“Every day,” Rhaegar replied his voice taking a softer tone, though his face remained hard and unreadable. “But that is not the topic I want to discuss. You called my son a bastard, but the boy shall be a Prince of House Targaryen…like our son Aegon. His name shall be Jaehaerys…I wed his mother.”

Elia thought she misheard, but she saw no hint of madness in Rhaegar’s face. He looked calm and composed, his dark purple eyes piercing into hers.

“You cannot,” she protested. “How did you find a Septon to conduct such a ceremony?”

“I wed her under the Faith of the Old Gods,” he countered quickly. “There was no need of a Septon. I am well aware that many a man will think the boy a bastard, but I shall legitimize him if people want to challenge his status. But do not fear, Aegon shall be my heir.”

Elia had listened in tense silence. When he was done she started to laugh.

“My brother will not accept that,” she challenged him again, knowing very well that this would end in another fight, but she didn’t care.

“Prince Doran is welcome to voice his concerns,” Rhaegar informed her and straightened himself, his breathing calmer than before. “But I doubt it will remain at that once I have informed him about my intentions towards the so called “Northern Whore.”

She heard the anger ringing in his voice and knew that she overstepped her bounds. Not that she cared. She had waited for moons to speak her mind.

“Indeed, I do not care about your whore nor do I care about that bastard of hers. Bring her to court if you want and call her your “Queen”, but everyone knows that the crown you placed on her head belongs to me. I toiled for it…I gave you two children…I have every right to it,” she snapped, baring her feelings to the world.

Rhaegar had endured her squall of anger in silence. Once she had calmed herself he spoke again, a weary smile curling on his pale lips.

“I see,” Rhaegar said, his voice laced with suppressed anger as he stepped closer. “I always knew that our marriage was nothing more than a bargain for you, Elia. I can only imagine what your Lady Mother told you. You must bring honour to House Martell…you must earn us a crown. Well, she shall rest happily by knowing you shall receive the crown I supposedly owe you…Aegon as well, but only once I have left this world.”

The mocking tone stirred her into another rage.

“Aegon is a babe and knowing the Stark girl she will do away with him to pave the path for her bastard.”

Rhaegar chuckled and shook his head.

“If you knew Lyanna you wouldn’t speak such vile words. She never asked me to wed her nor has she any interest in your crown.”

“Spare me your excuses,” Elia replied and felt tears burning her eyes. “I gave you your promised prince…,” she began, but Rhaegar cut her off.

“I never forced you. I offered to take a mistress and you went to my father, demanding that I return to your bed. I did and Aegon is the result of that. I shall honour my obligations towards him and towards you. You shall have your crown, but I shall no longer live together as husband and wife. I am well aware, that I can’t crown Lyanna, but she shall by my Queen and wife in all ways that matter.”

“In all ways that matter,” Elia repeated, her voice strained from the many words that had poured out of her mouth in the last hour. Then she brushed her tears away and met his gaze. “Why destroy everything you had for this girl?”

He her looked eerily calm as he leaned down to touch her shoulder.

“Because my life is too short to live with a woman that doesn’t love me and because I think your life is too short to live with a man that doesn’t love you…you may even take a lover if you wish,” Rhaegar told her and squeezed her shoulder. “Go and write your brother if you like, but do not think that I am scared of your family. I have Mace Tyrell’s full support and I know a way to bring Tywin to my side. Your brother may raise his spears and call for independence, but I am not Daeron the Young Dragon. I shall gladly grant Dorne independence if it means that I can keep Lyanna at my side.”

“Then keep her,” Elia snapped back and brushed his hand away. “I shall leave. I shall not stay in the same city as your mistress.”

“What about our children?” Rhaegar asked, his brows furrowed in what she interpreted as surprise. “You know that you cannot take them with you…”

She hadn’t thought about that, all her pride suddenly forgotten, but she hated that he had won this argument.

“I shall go to Dragonstone,” she corrected herself unwillingly. “To see my children…then I shall leave for Dorne. I am a Princess of House Martell…I have no need of your pity.”

Rhaegar nodded his head, a weary look taking hold of his face.

“Do as you please. I shall not stop you.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Lyanna


	3. Lyanna

**Lyanna**

King’s Landing was as grand as Rhaegar had promised her, yet the smell caused her to wrinkle her nose. The city of the dragon kings smelled like a pigsty.

The Red Keep with its red walls and the Sept of Baelor with its glittering crystal towers were impressive enough, but couldn’t hide the ugliness of the rest of the city. The other districts were nothing more than a sea of hovels made of clay, timber and sometimes stone. There were no snow-swept planes, thick forests or beautiful hills like in the North, only more and more buildings. It made her long for home, but then she knew that she could never go back.

The reason was the babe in her arms. She had birthed him two moons ago at castle Starfall. That he arrived a bit early should have helped the birthing process, but then her labour had lasted longer than expected. The poor Maester and Lady Ashara Dayne had been with her the whole time and when it was done she had fallen into a deep sleep and woke two days later, her body incredibly weak. She had lost much blood or that was what the Maester had told her and she would have probably perished if she had given birth in the tower.

And yet she wouldn’t help but to love the babe in her arms. He looked more like a Stark than a Targaryen, but whenever he opened his eyes she saw Rhaegar looking back at her. _Soon we will be home, little pup_ , she thought, pressed him closer to her heart and kissed his cheek. He had been born a moon too early, but he was strong and drank greedily whenever Wylla suckled him.

“He is such a quiet child,” Wylla, her babe’s nursemaid remarked. She was a sun-kissed lady from Dorne and graced with a pair of jade eyes. Her little young daughter Dorna was also there, her head placed on her mother’s lap. “Not even the bumpy roads bother him.”

“True,” Lyanna agreed as she angled her head to take in the three knights of the Kinsguard Rhaegar had assigned to her to guard her.

There was Ser Gerold Hightower the Lord Commander of the Kinsguard, who rode in front of the cart. Left from them rode Ser Arthur Dayne, who was the closest to her age, and on the right side rode Ser Oswell Whent.

Ser Arthur was a pleasant man, who had been a great comfort to her while she was staying in the tower belonging to House Dayne. After the victory of the Trident she had returned to Starfall, before departing from Dorne. Lord Dayne had even sent about twenty men to guard them while they were riding for King’s Landing.

“Ah, it’s good to see the Blackwater!” Ser Arthur Dayne remarked, his violet eyes fixed on the black band of water spreading through the city. The street they were travelling on was cobbled, but littered with holes and bumps that made the cart rattle. Then he craned his neck to look at her, his eyes darting to the babe in her arms, a smile curling on his lips. “It seems the Prince is unaffected by the hardships of the road.”

 “We shall be well,” Lyanna confirmed and chuckled. “But I am glad that we have finally arrived at our destination. I also envy you for your mount, Ser Arthur.”

“Many do,” he jested and brushed his hand through the mane of his black horse. “Thunder is a fine horse.”

Lyanna nodded and smiled as Ser Gerold Hightower slowed down his horse to speak to her. “The King tasked us to bring you to Maegor’s Keep, but we should be careful. Tywin Lannister resides in the city and we don’t want to draw more attention on us than necessary.”

“Of course,” Lyanna replied and pulled up the hood of her cloak. “I only want to see Rhaegar…I mean his Grace.”

“I thank you for your cooperation, my Lady,” he replied, nudged his feet in the sides of his horse and returned to his previous position.

Lyanna sighed deeply and took the time to take in the stone houses jutting out of the ground like mountains. Some were as high as towers while others were flat and crooked. More and more people came into sight as they made their way along the cobbled passing the Blackwater. She saw naked children splashing in the water, woman washing their clothes and fishers coursing along the river bend with their small boats.

The adults stared at them, their eyes filled with curiosity as the column of riders passed them, but the children proved far more brazen. Some of them ran next to Ser Arthur’s horse and asked him to show them his famous sword. Much to Ser Gerold’s displeasure Ser Arthur did just that. The children were delighted and chanted after him “Here comes the Sword of the Morning!”

“One could think Ser Arthur a King,” Dorna whispered in Lyanna’s ear and couldn’t help but to laugh. Lyanna relished it, because she couldn’t help but to feel anxious at the thought of entering the Red Keep. All these moons apart she had longed to see Rhaegar, but now he was no longer the brave Prince that had saved her from his Father’s men, but the King. _A King with a wife_ , she thought, though Rhaegar had assured her more than once that his heart belonged to her. Still, Lyanna had no illusions about the future. She couldn’t be his Queen, though they had said their words before the heart tree. Not that she wanted to be Queen. Lyanna cared little for the crown and the responsibilities that came with it. No, she only wanted Rhaegar and for their son to have a father. _Ned won’t be happy about this arrangement_ , she was sure. _But he will have to accept my decision whether he likes it or not._

As they continued to move along the street the buildings grew only taller, some of them several stories high. The streets here were tightly packed and they had to make their way through a thick crowed of people. Ser Gerold’s booming voice and the sight of his white cloak made the crowd part, though some stood frozen, their curious looks trying to get a glimpse at Lyanna and Dorna, hiding under their cloaks.

The climb up to Aegon’s Hill proved much calmer. The street showed no holes and nobody blocked their path as they continued to ride towards Maegor’s Holdfast.

The guardsmen straightened themselves when they saw Ser Gerold’s imposing figure and immediately lowered the portcullis to allow them entrance into a large courtyard filled with even more guards. Most of them wore golden cloaks and were armed with spears.

A tall and gangly man approached Ser Gerold in company of squires and stable boys, their nimble fingers taking hold of their horses and leading them away. He wore a pale cloak and his vest showed a white sheep on a green background, carrying some sort of a golden cup.

“Stokeworth,” Ser Gerold greeted the approaching man. “I think the King expects us.”

The gangly man laughed, dipped his head in greeting and his brown eyes flickered to Lyanna. Lyanna lifted her babe to her chest and dipped her head in greeting. His eyes glinted with curiosity, but she remained silent as Ser Gerold had asked of her.

“Indeed,” the man replied at last and shifted his attention back to Ser Gerold. “The King has been expecting your arrival. The rooms for the ladies have been prepared.”

“I shall escort the ladies to his Grace,” Arthur Dayne offered. “I am sure he is eager to see the Prince.”

“Do that,” Ser Gerold replied approvingly. “I shall settle our men.”

“You heard Ser Gerold,” Arthur told Lyanna and offered his hand to help her from the cart. Lyanna smiled at him and hopped from the cart. She may have birthed a babe, but she was still able to walk on her own.

 “Let’s go!” she added and grinned. Ser Arthur nodded his head and led the way.

Lyanna’s heart beat increased as she took in the curved wooden doors leading into keep that she soon learned harboured the Great Hall. They passed a handful of gold cloaks as they climbed up another wooden staircase, her eyes searching for Rhaegar. Yet she only found more armed guards coming their way until they stopped at a large door.

Arthur spoke to the guards and they opened the door, leading them into a dimly-lit anteroom. The walls were made of black stone and shiny as if someone had polished them. A large tapestry hung on each side, showing a massive three-headed dragon on an equally black background. The wooden floor, made of cherry wood, was covered in thick carpets embellished with golden dragons and other fearsome creatures she couldn’t name.

“Dragons,” she whispered to her son and followed after Arthur. “So many dragons.”

As if he had sensed her fear he stirred and gave a soft whine. Lyanna kissed his soft brown hair and stepped in a long room, furnished with a polished table and curved windows painted bright red.

“Come along, my ladies,” Ser Arthur whispered and held the door open for them. Lyanna gave an apologetic smile as she continued to rock her babe to calm him. He didn’t cry, but he squirmed in her arms, his small fingers balled to fists. “The King’s private chambers are right here.”

“I see,” Lyanna replied and gave Wylla an encouraging smile. She carried a sleeping Dorna, her green eyes taking in the surroundings with great eagerness. The adjourning room was even bigger, a large airy solar filled with three people. One was Rhaegar, who was talking to the other two men. The second man was Richard Lonmouth, a good-looking man with brown hair and an easy smile. _The Knight of Skulls and Kisses_ , the other Ladies at Harrenhall had called him. Lyanna knew him as Rhaegar’s friend and he seemed to know about them, because he graced Lyanna with a bright smile.

“My Lady Stark,” he greeted her while the other man looked rather grim. He had fiery hair and blue eyes as bright as the summer sky. He also looked unhappy about the intrusion. “It is good to see you hale.”

“I thank you, Ser Richard,” she replied and dipped her head. Her babe didn’t allow her to drop a curtsy.

“We should go,” the red-haired man grumbled and pulled on Ser Richard’s arm. “And give his Grace privacy.”

“I thank you, Jon,” she heard Rhaegar’s calm voice, his dark purple eyes fixed on her throughout the whole exchange. Lyanna swallowed hard and cleared her throat as Ser Richard and the red-haired men departed through another door at the other side of the room.

“As promised, I bring you Lady Lyanna and your Prince,” Ser Arthur added gently as he stood frozen at the entrance of the room. Wylla was also there, Dorna’s head buried in the skirt of her dress.

Rhaegar’s solemn face lightened up like a room full of candles.

“I thank you, Arthur,” Rhaegar replied softly, his dark eyes flickering back to Wylla.

“This is Lady Wylla…my nursemaid. The little girl is her daughter…Dorna. They have kept me company during my long travel.”

“I see,” Rhaegar replied and graced them each with a smile. “I thank you for your help, my ladies. Arthur will get you settled.”

“Of course,” Arthur nodded and closed the door behind them. “We shall take our leave.”

The door had barely closed before Rhaegar had wound his arms around her shoulders and kissed her brow. His touch was soft as if he feared she was made of glass.

“You look well, my love,” he whispered, touched her cheek and took in their son, squirming in her arms. “I heard he was born too early…he looks strong.”

“He is strong,” she confirmed and lifted herself to her toes to kiss his cheek. “But he still lacks a name.”

“Jaehaerys,” Rhaegar replied and touched their son’s hair. “For my grandfather.”

“Jaehaerys,” she repeated softly and chuckled. “That’s quite the mouthful…I would have preferred something simpler…like Jon. He looks more like a Stark than a Targaryen.”

Rhaegar laughed warmly and brushed his hand over her shoulder. “Jon is quite a plain name for a Targaryen Prince…hand him to me. I would like to hold him.”

“This other Jon seems to dislike me,” she remarked and lifted their son in Rhaegar’s arms. As expected, he stirred from his sleep and opened his eyes. He also gave a soft whimper, but didn’t cry.

“Lord Connington is a difficult man, but very loyal,” Rhaegar replied and leaned down to place a kiss on his head. Their babe gave another whimper and fell soon asleep.

Rhaegar laughed.

“He is different from Rhaenys and Aegon…my daughter used to cry all night,” Rhaegar explained and lifted their son back in her arms. The tone of his voice had changed the moment he had mentioned his other children.

Lyanna swallowed hard and touched his arm.

“I shall be pleased to meet them,” she added gently.

Rhaegar averted his gaze and squeezed her shoulder.

“My children are at Dragonstone. My mother thought it best to send them there to find a measure of peace. I am sure you heard the news…Ser Jaime Lannister slew the King.”

“Aye,” Lyanna confirmed. “Ser Gerold even called him the Kingslayer. What will happen to him now?”

“He won’t die,” Rhaegar replied and let go of her shoulder while his other hand touched her cheek. Lyanna shivered at his touch, wishing they could just leave this horrible city, but then she knew that Rhaegar was to be King. “I owe him and I need Tywin Lannisters support if I want to convince the rest of the rebels to bend the knee…your brother included.”

Lyanna tensed. She had heard that her brother was alive and captured, but she had no illusions what the majority of Rhaegar’s suppers thought of her brother. For them he was just another traitor, like Robert, who had died at the Trident and Lord Hoster Tully, who had been captured shortly after. Only Jon Arryn supposedly escaped, though most of these tales were rumours Ser Gerold had gathered in taverns.

“We shall see,” she whispered and searched Rhaegar’s gaze. “What about my brother?”

Rhaegar stiffened and averted his gaze, his dark eyes sweeping over the stone wall, before flickering back to her. ”Your brother is under house arrest. He is as well as one can be when accused of treason.”

Lyanna froze. Treason was the last thing one would have associated with Ned, but she doubted Rhaegar’s supporters cared about his reasons.

“Can I see him?” she asked and winced at her fearful voice. She always prided herself on her bravery, but Ned was her brother, her blood. “I need to tell him the truth.”

“On the morrow,” Rhaegar suggested in return, but Lyanna wanted to hear none of it. “I shall speak to him now.”

“You look weary, my love,” Rhaegar countered more softly. “And I wish to accompany you, but I have urgent business to attend to. I shall come to you later…you should rest.”

Lyanna wanted to protest, but her son’s cry told her that he was in need of milk.

“I shall see you later,” she replied and placed a kiss on his cheek, before following after the guardsman armed with a falchion.

The man walked her along a corridor until they reached an open door. Inside she found Lady Wylla speaking to two servant girls. Dorna observed them from her seat on a cushioned chair, munching on a piece of fruit.

“My Lady,” Wylla greeted her with a smile and spread her arms. “Is he hungry?”

“Aye,” Lyanna confirmed and felt her exhaustion. “He cried…”

“Good,” Wylla replied in a pleased voice. She had lost her own babe to a sickness and it seems she took a liking to Jaehaerys. “He is still so small.”

Lyanna nodded her head and watched longingly how Wylla fed her son. She had tried to feed him herself, but she lacked milk and she knew how people would frown at her if she tried to feed the babe herself.

Supper had come and gone and Jaehaerys had fallen asleep when Rhaegar joined her. The last hours she had used to take in her chambers.

They were larger than the ones she had in Winterfell. The walls were pale and the windows painted. There was a wooden table, chairs, carpets, a large wooden bed and several empty shelves. On wall was covered with a colourful tapestry. Wylla slept in a smaller room, probably meant for servants, which served as the nursery, though Lyanna had already told the nursemaid that she wanted her son’s crib placed near her bed. He had slept close to her since she had birthed him two moons ago. She feared he might be disturbed by a sudden change of habit.

Rhaegar looked weary as he closed the door behind him. His silver hair was slightly dishevelled and his skin was very pale.

Lyanna straightened herself and was about to open her mouth, before he cradled her face between her hands and kissed her fiercely.

“I missed you terribly,” he whispered against her lips and wound his hand around her shoulder. His touch made her forget about the lonely moons in the tower and her babe’s perilous birth.

“Prove it,” she whispered in a challenging tone and nibbled on his lips.

He kissed her fiercely as he pulled up the skirt of her dress. Then he left her mouth and sucked at her neck and ear.

She touched his scalp, massaging it. He let go of her neck and touched her between her legs, curling his fingers in a way that left her gasping for air.

“Take off your breeches,” she said breathlessly as he continued to touch her.

“I don’t think I can wait,” he replied hoarsely and fumbled with the laces of his breeches to free him. He drove inside her in such a hurry that she was left breathless.

Yet he didn’t move, his body frozen in time. Lyanna lifted her gaze and found his eyes shut.

Lyanna wrapped her hands around his shoulders, to encourage him. Rhaegar sighed and started to move inside her, first slowly and then ever faster.

When her release came upon her Lyanna grabbed his shoulders, her moan stifled by his mouth. He gripped her hip and trusted another handful of times, before his body went completely limp and he sank down on her.

She felt the warmth of seed between her thighs and touched his cheek, his quick breathing tickling her neck.

Lyanna didn’t speak. She simply enjoyed the closeness of his body and waited until he had regained his composure.

“You must be angry with me,” Rhaegar whispered against her cheek and rolled off her. “I take no pleasure in keeping your brother under guard, but my loyal supporters would deem me weak if I simply set him free. I have no intention to kill him, but he has to bend the knee. The same goes for Jon Arryn.”

“And Lord Hoster Tully?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“He will die a traitor’s death. Your brother and Lord Arryn had their reasons, but Hoster Tully was not wronged by me or my father…he had no right to harass men loyal to me,” Rhaegar replied in a sorrowful tone and laced up his breeches. “There is no other way or my supporters would think me weak.”

Lyanna nodded her head and brushed her tears away.

_Ned will never forgive me._

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Rhaella
> 
> I know I might sound like an ass, but if you don't enjoy the story just leave it alone. I rather have one or two comments that are positive than hate on every chapter. I get it Mama and Armansky1. You hate Rhaegar...he is the second coming of Hitler and so on, but I give no flying fuck about your opinions on the matter. I like Rhaegar and Lyanna and I can write whatever I want. I try to portray all characters as human. Are they selfish? Of course, but so are we all. What I like about Geroges writing is that none of his characters are perfect. All of them have good sides and bad sides to them. Ned is a loving father, but an naive idiot. Jaime is prideful cunt, but also has loyal and honorable streak that cannot be denied. Tyrion has a softness for broken people like him, but he is also a rapist and cynical as fuck. Catelyn loves her kids, but her headless actions brought about the downfall of her family and the death of her son. Robb marries Jeyne Westerling out of misguided honour and gets killed for it. Jon breaks his vows of the Night's Watch to save fArya from Ramsay and dies for it. Rhaegar might have been selfish, but he wasn't wrong about the white walkers. Elia and his children died in canon because Tywin was a cunt, but this silly idea that some of you have that Rhaegar planned their death is borderline redicilous.


	4. Rhaella

**Rhaella**

The air was so thick one could have cut it with a knife. Only the heavy breathing of the men assembled in the council chamber could be heard. It was the first time in years that Rhaella was allowed inside these halls. Before her husband’s madness she had often attended council meetings and Aerys had even consulted her regarding specific matters.

It was the Defiance of Duskendale that had changed everything. Her husband and brother had turned into a monster and became her tormentor. She had often thought of killing him and a few moons ago she had finally accomplished her goal. It was a sin against the gods, but she had enjoyed seeing the gaping wound Ser Jaime had given him. She only wished she could have given him a hundred more wounds, for every night of pain he had inflicted upon her. _He was a demon, a monster. Aerys died in Duskendale. The Mad King deserved his fate._

Now it was her son Rhaegar who occupied Aerys’ place at the head of the table, his head covered with a slender silver crown, emblazoned with red and black gemstones. He was finally King, but Rhaella felt no relief. _Heavy is the head who wears a crown_ , she knew and hoped with all hear heart that he will fare better than Aerys.

“Storm’s End fell due to treachery inside the castle, “Lord Mace Tyrell recounted what had transpired mere weeks ago. “When we entered the castle we found only death. Half the garrison had starved to death and some had even resorted to cannibalism. Stannis Baratheon was apparently killed among the fighting, but we found no sign of Renly Baratheon. By the accounts of the survivors the boy must have been smuggled out of the castle weeks ago. Perhaps they intend to crown him instead of his late brother…,” Mace Tyrell trailed off.

“I doubt that Jon Arryn knows about the boy’s whereabouts, Lord Tyrell,” Rhaegar replied, his silver hair spilling over his shoulder as he leaned forward to search Lord Tyrell’s face.

“I have written to Lord Arryn. He is prepared to lay down his weapons if I am prepared to spare Lord Eddard Stark’s and Lord Hoster’s life. An envoy lead by Yohn Royce is already on its way to King’s Landing,” her son continued to explain and swept his gaze across the council chamber. There was Mace Tyrell, Lord Darry, Jon Connington, Lord Tywin Lannister and so on. Of the old council only Grand Maester Pycelle had remained. The others had either been removed from their old positions or had fled, among them Lord Varys her husband’s Maester of Whisperers.

Rhaegar had told her that he also intended to do away with Grand Maester Pycelle. Rhaella welcomed her son’s decision. Pycelle should have never been Grand Maester. He was an incompetent fool who had lost every single one of her babes but Viserys. Had there been a better Grand Maester to attend to her, her sweet babes might have lived.

 _This one is going to live_ , she promised and brushed her hand over her swollen belly. Rhaegar had already promised her a more capable Maester.

“That could only a lie,” Jon Connington countered grimly. “To buy time…I say you, execute Hoster Tully now to drive the point home that Eddard Stark will follow if they don’t keep their end of the bargain, your Grace.”

Rhaella read displeasure on her son’s face.

“I will first speak to Lord Yohn Royce before I make further decisions. I want to end this war, not prolong it. I intend to pardon Jon Arryn and Eddard Stark in exchange for their vows of loyalty and hostages. Jon Arryn will have to give up his current heir, a boy named Harrold Hardyng and Lord Eddard will have to give up his brother Benjen Stark. I have yet to decide Hoster Tully’s fate but the siege of Riverrun shall continue until we have reached an agreement with the rebels and if we are lucky it will fall before that and we might be able to get our hands on Edmure Tully,” Rhaegar countered and shifted his attention to Lord Darry. “How long do you think they will be able to hold out?”

“Mayhaps a few more moons, your Grace,” Lord Darry explained and craned his neck to look at Lord Mace Tyrell. “But it would help us if you could send men to join our siege, my Lord. Five or six-thousand men would be enough.”

“House Lannister will also add its strength, your Grace,” Lord Tywin Lannister added. Rhaella knew what Rhaegar had promised him. _His heart’s desire_ , her son had told her not long ago. _And the renown he has been craving for._

Her son smiled and lowered his head in acceptance.

“I thank you, my Lord,” he replied and straightened the crown on his head as he turned to look at Lord Darry. “You shall have your men, Lord Darry.”

“What about Renly?” Jon Connington threw in. “What do you intend to do with him…that is if we are able to find him…,” he trailed off.

Her son sighed heavily. She knew that he had hoped for a different outcome, but that was the way of war.

“I will send men to search for him…to retrieve him,” her son replied. “But I don’t want to see the boy harmed. He is not to be blamed for what happened. He is far more valuable as a hostage.”

“And what if we are not able to find him, your Grace?” Lord Tywin countered, not afraid to speak the truth. “He will always pose a danger as long as the Stormlands remain without a capable ruler. Offer the Stormlands to another Stormlord and wed Robert Baratheon’s bastard daughter to him. I suggest choosing someone loyal to you and your cause.”

“I shall consider your suggestions, my Lord,” her son replied and nodded his head in confirmation. “But I doubt we will know more before I have spoken to Yohn Royce.”

At last her son swept his gaze across the room once more and smiled.

“I thank you all for your efforts, my Lords. On the morrow I shall inform you about my appointments for the Small Council, but now I must take my leave from you all.”

Muttering filled the hall and she heard the scraping of chairs. One after another the high lords bowed their heads, before departing out of the chamber, leaving only her son, Lord Tywin and Rhaella.

“My Lord,” Rhaegar said and graced Lord Tywin with a tense smile. “I thank you for giving me your time.”

If Lord Tywin was pleased about her son’s humble words it didn’t show on his face. He always had something hard and grim about him, even before Lady Joanna’s death, but the loss of his love had had also turned his heart to stone.

“I have always time to spare for my King,” Lord Tywin replied, his piercing eyes meeting first her and then her son’s gaze across the table. “What do you wish to speak about, your Grace?”

“You shall be my Hand,” Rhaegar repeated the offer he had already relayed to Lord Tywin a few days ago. “My Lord Father was a fool to not recognize your abilities. House Targaryen has need of House Lannister and that is why I intend to do more than just to pardon your son, Ser Jaime. We both know that your son’s place is as the heir to the Casterly Rock. The Westerlands have need of a worthy heir. I want that my son Aegon has strong allies once he ascends to the throne and I want your son to be one of these men.”

If Lord Tywin was surprised by Rhaegar’s offer it didn’t show on his unreadable face.

“It would please me to see Jaime returned to its rightful place at my side, your Grace,” Lord Tywin replied calmly. “And I am sure my son will prove himself worthy of your trust.”

“He already proved himself when he slew my father,” Rhaegar added and smiled at Rhaella. In truth it was she who had commanded Ser Jaime to put an end to Aerys’ reign. “The Mad King intended to burn the city to the ground, but Ser Jaime stopped him. He saved the city and its people. If I could I would name him a hero, but I cannot. That is why it is in my interest to see him and House Lannister appropriately rewarded. As heir to Casterly Rock he will have need of a wife...I have someone in mind, but I am not sure if you will approve of my suggestion.”

Lord Tywin brought his cup to his lips, his green-golden eyes narrowed in concentration. Once he had gulped down the red liquid he shifted his attention back to Rhaegar.

“Who do you have in mind, your Grace?”

“Lady Lynesse Hightower. She is only a younger daughter, but young, fertile and the dowry would be plentiful. More importantly, she is Lady Alerie Tyrell’s sister. I want to strengthen the bond between my supporters and this match would be part of these plans.”

Lord Tywin’s face was unreadable as ever as he pondered over her son’s suggestion. He gave Rhaegar the silent treatment as if he was a mere child, but then he also liked to do that with Aerys.

Rhaegar didn’t seem bothered and re-filled his cup. When he was done Lord Tywin spoke again.

“I agree to your suggestion, your Grace,” Lord Tywin said and straightened himself.

“I thank you, my Lord,” Rhaegar replied and lowered his head in an almost humble manner, though she knew it was nothing more than a mummery. She didn’t doubt that Rhaegar acknowledged Lord Tywin’s abilities, but then she also knew that he never held much trust in the Lannisters. Before Aerys’ madness Rhaegar had always chose his father’s side when he was having his petty fights with his Hand of the King. It also revealed Rhaegar’s vulnerable position. Three kingdoms needed to be submitted and the Dornish won’t be pleased about her son’s plans for her grandson Prince Jaehaerys.”

Rhaella was torn on the matter. She had yet to meet Lyanna Stark, but by the way her son spoke about her she must be a special lady, but then she also felt sympathies for Princess Elia. Rhaella had chosen here for her good breeding and dutiful character, but beyond that she never had the chance to get to know her, due to the King’s dislike for her sickly daughter-in-law. Rhaegar had always made sure to keep her in Dragonstone, far away from her Aerys. Only in the last weeks she had been able to get to know her daughter-in-law. _I did her no favour in choosing her_ , Rhaella thought. _May the gods forgive me for bringing misery to both my son and Princess Elia._

Thus it made it only harder for her to disapprove of Lyanna Stark. Elia was good and kind, but Rhaegar needed more heirs than wee Prince Aegon. Lyanna Stark was young and healthy and most importantly she would make Rhaegar happy, something he hadn’t been for many years. Still, they also needed the Dornish and Elia’s departure from King’s Landing didn’t bode well. _I need to reconcile them somewhat_ , she knew and shifted her attention back to Lord Tywin and Rhaegar.

“There is one last matter I wish to discuss, my Lord,” Rhaegar added, his voice taking a softer tone. “You might have heard of my intentions to legitimize my son with Lady Lyanna Stark. I may be the King, but I fear this will cause uproar among the Dornish. Lord Tyrell’s loyalty I was able to gain through my promise to wed my daughter Rhaenys to his oldest son…that’s why I intend to give you a similar offer. My son Aegon will be in need of a bride when he comes of age…and should House Lannister prove its loyalty over the next years I might consider a match between our houses...which also brings me to your daughter…Lady Cersei. Have you thought of a match for your daughter?”

Lord Tywin frowned and nodded his head.

“I understand why you have an interest in legitimizing your son. A King has need of heirs and thus I shall support his legitimacy. There is no guarantee that Prince Aegon lives to adulthood. I shall support any son of yours, be he born from Princess Elia’s womb or of Lady Lyanna’s womb. Truly, your Lord Father did you no favour when he chose for you such a sickly bride. Cersei wouldn’t have disappointed you in such a manner, but we also cannot control were our affections fall,” he replied and met Rhaella’s gaze across the table. “My wife Lady Joanna brought me much contentment and I shall not stand in the way of yours, your Grace.”

Then he shifted his attention back to Rhaegar.

“In regards to Cersei,” he muttered. “Who do you have in mind, your Grace?”

“I have, but I doubt the match will please you, my Lord,” Rhaegar admitted. “I want her to wed Jon Lord Connington, whom I intend to name Lord Protector of the Stormlands until I have come to a decision regarding the succession. If Renly Baratheon cannot be found I will be forced to follow Lord Connington’s advice and name Lady Mya Stone as the heir to the Stormlands. Should Lady Cersei be able to provide heirs, of which I have no doubt, I would consider wedding one of them to Lady Mya. It is not a very prestigious match, but the crown shall provide a good dowry and Lord Connington is one of my most loyal friends. Regarding a future blood relation…this shall depend on whether Ser Jaime or Lady Cersei are graced with a daughter.”

By the way Lord Tywin was clenching his teeth she knew that Rhaegar had indeed hurt his pride, but then her son could have very well kept Ser Jaime in the Kingsguard.

“My daughter will refuse this match,” Lord Tywin replied bluntly. “But that doesn’t mean it is impossible…I shall speak to her and you will have my answer in good time.”

Rhaella remained sceptical, but then she also knew what a prideful man Tywin was and Rhaegar had stroked his ego in every way possible. _It must have cost him much willpower to do so_ , she knew and felt the urge to enclose him in her arms.

“I thank you for your time, my Lord,” Rhaegar thanked one last time before, Lord Tywin departed from the room.

Once he was gone Rhaegar buried is head between his hands and exhaled deeply.

He remained like this for a few heart beats, before he started to laugh.

“Are you well, my son?” Rhaella asked and rose to her feet to join his side. She brushed her hands over his back as if he was a child and he finally stopped.

“I feel like whore,” Rhaegar replied through clenched teeth as he met her gaze. “Should I have sucked his cock as well? Mayhaps that would have made it easier?”

Rhaella sighed deeply and leaned down to place a kiss on his cheek.

“I know it was hard, but it is better to have Lord Tywin on our side. Besides, you gave no written promise. Lord Tywin is old…he might die before Aegon comes of age and there is no guarantee that Ser Jaime and Lady Cersei have daughters. The game changes all the time. Do not feel guilty, my son.”

Rhaegar nodded his head and kissed her hand.

“I thank you for your words of encouragement, dear mother.”

“You don’t have to thank me, my son. Comforting their children is what mothers are there for,” she replied in a heavy voice. It was time to speak her mind. “I hold no grudge against your chosen Lady and will be pleased to have another grandson, but Elia leaving King’s Landing made a bad impression. I have no doubt that Prince Doran will send her back, but when she returns you will have to find a solution that suits both sides. She will be your Queen and you cannot expect of her to live together with Lady Lyanna. That would be cruel and you know it.”

“Of course,” Rhaegar confirmed and gave her an assuring smile. “Lyanna and my son shall not reside in King’s Landing…not that she wants. She dislikes the smell of this city. I shall settle her in Dragonstone. I think she will like it there. She is quite fond of tales, like me.”

Seeing her son happy warmed her heart, wouldn’t let him off the hook.

“You should still try reconciling with Elia,” she insisted. Rhaegar stiffened instantly and rose to his feet. He marched to the window, his back turned to her.

“She will be Queen,” Rhaegar replied. “I cannot give her more than that.”

“I understand that,” Rhaegar replied and stepped closer, coming to stand next to him. “But you could try making it easier for her.”

“You know what she did,” Rhaegar replied, his voice laced with suppressed anger. When he turned around, he trembled. “She went to father, telling him how I refused to share her bed. She knew very well how much I despised him...,” he trailed off and averted his gaze.”

Rhaella froze, recalling the terrible time after the Defiance of Duskendale. Aerys had been mad with rage. In the first few moons he had killed five servants and shortly after he had violated her in front of Rhaegar. Her son had attacked Aerys, breaking his nose and spilling the blood of his royal sire. Aerys hadn’t hesitated to show him his placed and had him thrown in the Black cells. For three moons he had resided there and afterwards Rhaegar had never dared to attack his royal sire again.

“You never told me what he did,” Rhaella remarked, her voice distant and weak. Her heart was racing, hoping that her son might entrust this dark secret to her after all these years. ”Tell me…I endured enough to know what Aerys’ cruelty feels like.”

“I know that, mother,” Rhaegar replied and leaned over to kiss her brow. “And that is why I won’t burden you with this…you endured too much.”

Rhaella wanted to hear none of it and grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“And I have learned that speaking one’s mind helps,” she whispered.

Rhaegar turned around and touched her shoulder.

“He had me tortured,” Rhaegar replied in a trembling voice. “I think it was his way to ease the pain of the humiliations they had inflicted upon him during his imprisonment. I shall spare you the details, dear mother.”

Rhaella felt tears burning in her eyes, but she kept her composure.

“Elia didn’t know these details, did she?”

“No, she didn’t,” Rhaegar admitted in a heavy voice and returned to his chair where he had left his cloak. He fastened the garment and gave Rhaella a last smile.

“I shall see you later, mother.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tywin will agree to Cersei's match, but not because he wants to do Rhaegar a favour. There will be a Cersei chapter, but relatively at the end of the story.
> 
> And Renly...well there is Ser Davos one of the best smugglers in the Seven Kingdoms. That's all I am going to say.


	5. Ned

**Ned**

The bright sunlight falling through the painted windows felt like a balm on his skin. For weeks he had been lodged in a dungeon beneath Castle Darry and now he had been finally brought to King’s Landing. He had hoped to see his sister his sister, but instead they had lodged him in a guarded chamber. It was a small chamber, not meant for a highborn lord, but for him everything felt like luxury. The feather bed and the fresh clothing were a dream come true and the food was even better, though it left a sour taste in his mouth. He felt almost like a traitor.

Still, being locked for weeks had strained his nerves. He was used to move freely and not to be treated like a prisoner. Prince…no King Rhaegar had spoken to him only once, when he had still resided in the dungeons of castle Darry, but the King had yet to visit him again.

What the King had told him had shocked Ned greatly and he had yet to find the strength to believe him.  _First _I need to speak to Lya__ , he knew and brushed his hand over the red glass window. The sunlight made the surface glow like rubies, truly a beautiful sight, but no comfort to Ned.  _I shouldn’t be here. I belong to Winterfell._

In truth, he had never wanted to be Lord of Winterfell. Brandon was supposed to succeed their father and it was Brandon who was meant to marry Catelyn Tully. At times Ned still thought of her as the girl meant to wed Brandon and at other times he realized again that he had wed her more than a year ago in the Sept of Riverrun.

What he felt for her he couldn’t say. She was a stranger to him and his son nothing more than a footnote in a letter. And yet he knew that he existed, though Ned didn’t even know the boy’s name.

 _Perhaps Rickard or Jon_ , he thought and recalled that he had told Lady Catelyn that Jon Arryn had been more of a father to him than his own father. Ned had always respected his father, but Rickard Stark had been a serious and serious man while Jon Arryn had given him the affection Ned had been craving for throughout his entire childhood.

 _At least Jon made it out alive_ , Ned consoled himself and thought of Robert. His brash friend had never considered that they might lose this war. He had told Ned more than once what he would do with Prince Rhaegar and King Aerys, but in the end it was Robert who found an early grave in the dark waters of the River Trident. Ned felt anger and sadness on behalf of his friend, but then Ned himself had never shared Robert’s enthusiasm about this war. He had only fought to keep his head, not because he had wanted to give Robert a crown. The idea hadn’t even occurred to him until Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully had brought it up. Ned had desired King Aerys’ head and had wanted to save his sister, but Lyanna’s abduction turned out to be another lie.  _Robert died for nothing. For nothing._

Ned also had no illusions about the future. He had literally spat the King in the face.

Now he hated himself for his headless actions. He had always prided himself on his calm temper, but in that moment he had discovered his wolf’s blood as Brandon would have called it.

_Will I remain Lord of Winterfell? Or will my unnamed son succeed me while I rot at the Wall? Or will I die like a common traitor…_

All these thoughts fluttered through his mind as the door opened with a scraping sound. A patch of blue silk fluttered before his eyes, before someone overwhelmed him with a tight embrace. Ned had been so surprised that he had stumbled backwards, his body stiff like a piece of stone as the familiar girl buried her head in the crook of his neck.

“Lya,” he whispered, his voice distant and strained to his ears. “You are alive and well…” he trailed off and lifted his hand to touch her soft brown hair.

“It was a misunderstanding,” she whispered in a trembling voice and lifted her head to look at him. There was an unusual softness to her sharp face, her grey eyes wet with tears and her brown hair braided out of her face. She no longer looked like the small girl that loved to race her horse through the Wolfswood. He was now a woman grown, the ghost of their Lady Mother. “Did Rhaegar tell you the truth?”

Ned nodded his head, his stomach twisting and turning as he recalled what King Rhaegar had told him. That he supposedly saved her from King Aerys’ henchmen, that he had wed her and that she had borne his child.

Looking at her now he knew it was true.

“You were really the Knight of the Laughing Tree?” Ned asked in a raspy voice, trying to hide the pent-up frustration bubbling up inside him.

“Aye,” she confirmed in a stuttering voice and covered his hands with hers. “I didn’t think the Mad King would care about a silly hedge knight like me…let alone sent his men after me. Rhaegar was barely able to save me and then…I couldn’t bring myself to return…you know…I never wanted to marry Robert and I took my chance…,” she trailed off and exhaled deeply as she met his gaze. “Neither I nor Rhaegar thought it possible that Brandon would ride for King’s Landing to confront the Mad King…”

Ned was torn. He felt the urge to shout at her, but then even Ned couldn’t deny that Brandon must have been possessed by madness to do what he did. Everyone in Riverrun had tried to reason with him, but he stormed off without wasting a second thought about the consequences. Truly, considering the matter more closely he couldn’t help but to notice the similarity between Robert and Brandon. Both had died for a lie and both had allowed their anger to overwhelm them. _I told Robert to stay away from the Kingsguard, but he didn’t listen. Ser Barristan proved the better fighter._

Still, Ned’s anger was still brewing inside his chest and the way he brushed her hand away lacked its usual softness.

Then he backed away and turned around. He took a moment to exhale deeply, before he shifted his attention back to her.

“You could have at least sent a raven…something,” he accused her, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible.

The expression of sadness on her face changed to an expression of confusion.

“Did Rhaegar not tell you?” she asked her brows rising to the top of her head. The Rebellion was in full swing when we heard the news about father’s and Brandon’s deaths…;” she continued, but Ned cut in.

“That’s no excuse…you could have informed us…to put an end to this war,” he countered, all his frustration pouring out of him. “Robert died for you. He died to save your honour.”

Lyanna looked like slapped, her face pale like ash as she backed away.

“My honour?” she asked in an uncharacteristically low voice. “As far as I know he was trying to keep his head…like you. He probably told himself that he was fighting this war to save me, but in truth he was trying to stroke his bruised ego. He only ever cared about what he wanted…and what he wanted was to put his cock inside me so he can name you his brother-by-marriage. Whether I wanted him was never of any concern to him.”

Ned had never heard her speak with such venom, not even on the day their Lord Father had announced the betrothal between her and Robert.

 _Love is sweet, but it cannot change a person’s character_ , she had told him on the same night and maybe she was right, but Ned couldn’t help but to defend his old friend.

“Whatever you think of him…he died for you…he loved you in his own way,” Ned replied and could barely meet her gaze.

“To love someone you need to know him,” Lyanna replied defiantly and searched his gaze. “Robert didn’t know me, because if he did he would have given me a choice…he would have never gone to father and demanded me as if I am nothing more than a piece of flesh.”

“And yet you married the King…a married man,” Ned countered and winced at the coldness in his voice. “But the Old Gods are not the gods of the south. In their eyes you will never be his Queen. You will be nothing more than his mistress and the babe of yours his bastard…” he continued, but Lyanna cut him off, her angry eyes blazing with anger.

“I care not for the crown and my babe shall be legitimized. Besides, what right do you have to judge me? I rather live the life a happy mistress than spend the rest of my life bound to a man who will start ignoring me the moment he spots the next pretty skirt around the corner. Aye, call me a hypocrite if you like, but neither I nor Rhaegar have ever strayed from the bed of our intended until we met. I never cared that Robert fathered a babe before our betrothal nor was it the reason I disliked the idea of marrying him. I disliked the idea of marrying him, because I know how our marriage would have ended. Robert was like Brandon. For a year or so he might have sworn me his undying love and then once I have birthed him one or two babes he would have forgotten about me. Brandon did it many times and with countless of ladies…do not deny it.”

It was true, but that didn’t help to lessen Ned’s mistrust towards King Rhaegar.

“And what makes you so sure the King is not using you as well?” Ned asked, his anger leaving him.  _He blamed himself for being so blind_ , but he also realized how clueless his sister was.  _I must show her the truth_. “Mayhaps in a year or two he will grow tired of you and what then? Where will you go?”

“He won’t,” Lyanna replied sullenly. “He promised me…he won’t ever leave me.”

“He gave the same promise to his wife,” Ned replied sternly and felt suddenly like his father, cold and unyielding to the wilful girl in front of him. “And he broke it.”

“He doesn’t lover…he never loved her,” Lyanna insisted and pulled on the sleeve of her dress. “He married her out of duty and nothing more…like many a high lord or prince was commanded to do. Duty and honour are nothing but empty words…but they cannot still the longing inside my heart. Maybe it is enough for you, but not for  _me_.”

Lyanna’s words hovered over him like a sword threatening to fall down on him any moment. He also felt incredibly tired as if a heavy weight had been loaded onto his shoulders.

He couldn’t help but to blame himself. He had always believed that Lyanna might learn to appreciate Robert, but now he realized that this was just another one of his delusions.

“He still died for nothing…and that’s partly your fault,” Ned accused her again, though in a softer voice. “You could have come forward and put an end to it…Why? Why did you not tell us?”

“Why?” she asked in utter disbelief. “Because the rebellion was already in full swing…Do you really think Robert would have simply laid down his weapons and sued for peace? Do you think he would have stopped once he knew the truth? He would have killed me…and you know it. His pride would have never allowed him to forgive such a slight.”

Ned tried to imagine it with all his heart, but what Lyanna said was true. Robert would have never forgiven such a slight, though Ned would have never allowed his friend to lay a hand on his sister.

“Mayhaps,” Ned replied in a heavy voice and sat down in the nearby chair placed next to the window. He was feeling dizzy and his body weak from his long imprisonment. “But what about Rhaegar…,” he began, but Lyanna cut him off.

“Rhaegar would have died if he dared to return to court. We hid with the Daynes because Rhaegar trusted them to protect us. I wept for father and Bran, but none of my bloody tears will bring them back. There is not a damn thing I can do to undo what happened and you know it,” Lyanna ranted and had started to pace through the room like a wild wolf. “Besides, I came here to speak to you about the future… Do you want to go back to Winterfell to your wife and babe?”

“I see…Did the King send you to convince me?” he asked and couldn’t help but to laugh bitterly. “Is he too proud to speak to me face-to-face?”

“I told Rhaegar to stay away,” she countered quickly and knelt down to touch his hands as she searched his gaze. “I thought his presence might upset you. Ned, whatever happened and whatever happens in the future…you are my brother, my blood and I won’t allow anyone to harm you…not even Rhaegar. He promised me to pardon you and Jon Arryn if you are prepared to bend the knee. There are other details, but that’s the essence of it. Yohn Royce is on his way to King’s Landing…convince him to accept Rhaegar’s conditions and by doing so you can win your own freedom.”

“Jon Arryn wouldn’t be so foolish to come here to bend the knee,” Ned countered in disbelief, but the slight curl on her lips told him otherwise. “Rhaegar is prepared to accept Jon Arryn’s written vows, but there are other conditions…you should speak to him yourself if you want to hear the details, but I promise you…Rhaegar has no intention to harm Jon Arryn.”

Ned sighed deeply and brushed his hair out of his face, pondering over Lyanna’s words. He longed to leave this place, to go home to Winterfell where he belonged.  _Forgive me, old friend_ , he apologized and let his anger go.  _But I must think of my son’s future._

Then he squeezed Lyanna’s hand and nodded his head in acceptance.

“I will bend the knee,” Ned promised her in a weak voice and lifted his head to look at Lyanna. “You said that King intends to pardon me and Jon Arryn if we bend the knee…What of Lord Hoster? Will he receive the same offer?”

Lyanna’s silence told him more than a thousand words.

“I see.”

…


	6. Lyanna

**Lyanna**

Lyanna’s eyes burned from the bright sunlight falling through the high windows as she turned around to look at Rhaegar. The King of the Seven Kingdoms was still asleep, his silver hair tousled and his clothes scattered over the floor. Lyanna smiled and sat up, leaning down to pick up her discarded undershirt. Ever quietly, she dressed and put her feet on the ground.

Then she went to pick up the rest of the clothing and started to fold it properly, her memories of last night flooding back into her mind. Thinking of it made her grin.

“Lyanna,” Rhaegar’s sleepy voice caused her to turn around. A slight smile curled on his lips as he sat up and searched for his clothes. “What are you doing?”

Lyanna smiled and showed him the folded tunic.

“I wanted it to look orderly,” Lyanna explained and placed the clothing on the nearby table. Then she went to the strongbox, in which Rheagar kept his clothing. For a Prince he had a rather simple taste. He loved white tunics, dark pants and polished boots. The only extravagant were his cloaks embellished with small rubies, a garment he supposedly inherited from his grandfather Jaehaerys. Lyanna found it odd to wear the garments of a dead man, but then there were many things she didn’t understand about the Targaryens.

Once she had retrieved a tunic, breeches and a cloak she returned to Rhaegar’s side and laid the clothes next to him on the bed.

“I think this should do.”

He smiled at her and grabbed her arm, pulling her backwards when she tried to get away.

“We have servants for these kinds of tasks, you know?”

Lyanna chuckled, but didn’t allow him to pull her back into bed. He had told her only yesterday that he intended to rise early, to meet with Yohn Royce, who had arrived a day ago and came to speak on behalf of Lord Jon Arryn. Ned would also be there, but Lyanna felt no longing to speak to him after their last conversation. She had expected him to be angry, but his coldness had hurt her more than she wanted to admit. _It’s Robert’s death that angers him so much_ , she knew and tried to share his grief. She had never hated Robert, but she could never bring herself to share needs views in regards to her late betrothed. _I shall speak to him tomorrow_ , she told herself for the tenth time in the last two days. The empty promise helped to ease her guilt, but it couldn’t remove the pain in her heart.

“My Lady Mother expected of her children to dress themselves,” Lyanna explained and leaned down to brushed his silver hair out of his face. Then she kissed his cheeks and brushed his hands away. “But we had servants for other tasks…Does it bother you?”

“No,” Rhaegar replied with a chuckly, wrapped his hands around her hip and pressed his head against her chest. “I love being served by you, my Lady,” he added in a teasing tone tone and promptly received a playful slap on the shoulder.

Rhaegar graced her with one of his seldom smiles, his face alight with amusement. “Especially, when you are using your mouth…”

Lyanna’s cheeks burned again, though she had used her mouth on him a dozen of times.

“Not today, your Grace,” she told him firmly and bushed his hands away. “You have a meeting to attend to. Besides, your Lady Mother is coming to see Jaehaerys.”

It was not the first time she had met the Queen Mother, but Lyanna always felt anxious in her presence as if she had to prove herself worthy.

“I would rather spend the day with my mother than to speak to those angry men,” Rhaegar replied and exhaled deeply. Then he rose to his feet and started to dress.

Lyanna used the time to seek out Wylla. As always, the young woman had risen early and was attending to Jaehaerys. Dorna was also there, stuffing her mouth with a bowl of honeyed broth.

“My Lady,” Wylla greeted her and patted Jaehaerys’ head as she continued to suckle him. “He is quite hungry…a good sign.”

“The Queen Mother will be pleased to hear it,” Lyanna countered and watched until Wylla was finished feeding Jaehaerys. When she was done Wylla lifted him back into her arms and they returned to the solar. Lyanna had already changed into a proper gown, but Wylla was still garbed in her nightdress.

Lyanna used the time to sit down beside the windows. Below these windows spread a narrow courtyard filled with guards, servants and other inhabitants of the castle. Sometimes she sat here all day, watching coming and going of the guards as she rocked her son to sleep. She still disliked the city, especially its smell, but the fact that she would soon depart for Dragonstone made it easier to bear. Rhaegar promised her fresh air, wind-swept beaches and the ancient halls of the dragon kings, but Lyanna also knew that there was another reason for her departure.

Ned wasn’t wrong when he had called her Rhaegar’s mistress, though she felt no shame for that. She knew what she would give when she decided to speak the vows beneath the heart tree. She knew that she would never be able to go home, but it still made her heart ache when she thought of Benjen. Benjen she missed the most and Old Nan. _She would wash my ears_ , she was sure and felt both happiness and sadness when she thought of the old woman. _And then she would pick Jaehaerys from arms and tell him one of her tales or sing him a song in the Old Tongue._

It was the scraping sound of the door that roused her out of her stupor. She clutched her son tightly and felt a hint of relief when Wylla stepped through the door to join her. Lyanna promptly handed her the babe and straightened her dress.

Moments later the door opened and Queen Mother Rhaella stepped inside. Lyanna was always awed by her beauty. Her even-shaped face, sharp cheekbones and her silver hair gave an almost otherworldly appearance.

As always, she smiled when saw the babe in Lady Wylla’s arms.

“May I hold him?” the Queen Mother asked politely as ever as she searched Lyanna’s gaze.

“Of course, your Grace,” Lyanna confirmed, trying to hide her strained nerves. “He is just a bit tired.”

“Oh, I don’t mind…he is quite the heavy sleeper, isn’t it?” the Queen asked and received the babe from Lady Wylla. The Queen Mother’s smile was as bright as a star as she placed a kiss on Jaehaerys’ brow.

“He reminds me so much of Rhaegar,” the Queen Mother remarked later as she regarded her grandson, sleeping in her lap.

When she noticed Lyanna’s confused look she smiled lovingly. “Not the looks, but the character. Rhaegar was such a quiet child...Sometimes I tickled him, hoping he would make a sound, but he remained quiet as ever.”

“He has Rhaegar’s eyes,” Lyanna added and chuckled nervously. “But you are right, your Grace, I am blessed.”

“Rhaella,” the Queen Mother corrected gently. “In private you may call me by my given name, child.”

“And you many call me Lyanna,” Lyanna replied politely.

“Lyanna,” the Queen Mother repeated, her smile changing to a thin line. _Seeing Jaehaerys is not the only reason she came here_ , Lyanna surmised and braced herself. “There is a delicate matter that needs to be addressed.”

“Princess Elia,” Lyanna remarked and exhaled deeply. “Rhaegar told me that she travelled to Dorne…I understand that she is upset, but neither I nor Rhaegar can help it, your Grace. You must think me a horrible person, but my love for Rhaegar is true and I hold no interest in Princess Elia’s crown. I only want to be with Rhaegar and for my son to have a good life.”

“I know that, child,” Rhaella assured her quickly and searched Lyanna’s face. “And I am not here to judge you. I want Rhaegar to be happy, but you must promise something...”

Lyanna sighed in relief and nodded her head in confirmation.

“What is it, your Grace?”

“You must not seek to place this boy on the throne. Promise me to raise your little Prince as Aegon’s humble subject and I shall be pleased. That’s all I ask.”

Lyanna was horrified that the Queen Mother thought she had any intention to place her son on the throne.

“I didn’t marry Rhaegar because I wanted to see my blood on the throne,” Lyanna assured her. “I wish Prince Aegon a long and happy life.”

The Queen Mother seemed pleased with Lyanna’s answer and leaned over to touch Lyanna’s hand.

“I believe you, child…I believe you.”

The rest of the morning passed quickly. Her son slept while Lyanna broke her fast in company of the Queen Mother, who regaled her with anecdotes about Rhaegar’s childhood, some of them sad and others quite amusing. Truly, it was the first time she felt completely at ease in company Queen Mother and soon she started to speak about her own childhood. About her strict father, her mother’s early passing and of course about her siblings. Tears burned in her eyes when she spoke of Brandon and laughed when she recounted a silly prank she and Benjen had once played on the guards.

The Queen listened patiently, her indigo eyes alight with warmth. What Rhaegar had told her about his mother was true. She was a woman of unsurpassed loveliness. How the Mad King could harm such a kind woman was beyond her.

 _He must have been a monster_ , she thought as her gaze darted to Queen Rhaella’s swollen belly.

“Rhaegar told me that you intend to retire to Dragonstone?” Lyanna asked and folded her hands in front of her. “May I ask why?”

Queen Rhaella nodded her head and smoothed her hand over her swollen belly.

“I need peace…I do not want to lose this babe as well,” the Queen Mother explained and lifted Jaehaerys back into Lyanna’s hands. He was awake, his dark eyes staring back at her and his nimble fingers grabbing the seam of her dress. He gurgled and his soft hair tickled her cheek as she held him to her neck. “And I dislike this city.”

“Something we have in common,” Lyanna remarked and watched as the Queen Mother wrapped her shawl around her delicate shoulders. “I shall be pleased to leave this city behind me.”

The Queen Mother nodded her head, her ladies following after her in dignified silence. “I am also pleased,” she added and was about to turn around, but then she stopped in her tracks and searched Lyanna’s gaze.

She looked conflicted, but spoke nonetheless.

“Rhaegar asked to keep this to myself, but your brother’s wife, Lady Catelyn Tully arrived yesterday, riding under the Stark banner.”

Lyanna was stunned by this revelation. _You fool_ , Lyanna wanted to shout and find Rhaegar to give him a piece of her mind. _I am not made of glass._

“Has my brother seen her?” Lyanna asked in return.

The Queen Mother shook her head.

“Not yet, my child.”

“May I speak to her?”

The Queen Mother frowned, but didn’t refuse her wish.

“I shall call for her, my child.”

Lyanna dipped her head and braced herself.

“I thank you, your Grace.”

…


	7. Catelyn

**Catelyn**

Cat couldn’t even stomach the warmed-up broth, though she had not eaten anything since last night. She had been treated with more courtesy than she expected. Her father and husband had been captured and were known traitors to the crown, but the Queen Mother Rhaella had tasked the servants to feed her and to prepare a bath for her. Thus Cat had spent the evening scrubbing the dirt from her skin, but even the hot water and the food couldn’t still her fear. Her husband and father were not the only ones in dire need of help. Her Grand-Uncle and brother Edmure were still in Riverrun, besieged by enemy forces.

Her Grand-Uncle would have called her mad for coming here, but then Cat had no other choice. Mayhaps she could move the King to put an end to this fruitless struggle. So many had died for nothing: Robert Baratheon, Brandon, Lord Rickard and so on. Even Lyanna Stark’s supposed abduction had turned out to be another lie. Cat didn’t know the details, but Lord Benjen had insisted that the rumours are true. He had also insisted on accompanying her to King’s Landing, but Cat had told him to remain in Winterfell. Robb was a Stark, but a mere babe.

Once she had washed herself she put on a new gown and as she returned into the small solar she found one of the servant girls present, her head lowered to the ground.

“My lady,” the girl greeted her. “The Queen Mother sent me to inform you that Lady Lyanna wishes to speak to you.”

Cat was stunned. She had hoped to speak to her husband, to her Lord Father or mayhaps to the King, but Lyanna Stark was not the kind of person she wanted to speak to. She had never wasted much of a thought on Brandon’s sister, though he sometimes spoke of her. Cat had only known that she was betrothed to Robert Baratheon and that this had led to some sort of estrangement between the girl and Lord Rickard. Brandon had been distraught about that, but a moment later he had brushed it off as if it meant nothing. Even now she saw him grin back at her, his brown hair tousled from the wind as he sharpened his blade. He liked to test his mettle against other men and thus it was no surprise to her that Petyr stood no chance against him during their silly duel…

 _He is dead_ , she reminded herself. She had loved him and now she was wed to another man. _Dead and gone._

“I would be pleased to meet her,” Cat told the servant girl. “I shall see her at once.”

Catelyn exhaled deeply as she stepped into the airy solar. Behind her she heard the creaking of the door and in some distant room a mewling sound. She wasn’t sure at first, but when she noticed the young woman entering into the solar she realized that the sound was coming from the babe in the young woman’s arms. Boy or girl, the babe couldn’t be much older than four or five moons. Like most babes it had a fat head and round rosy cheeks, but it was the babe’s brown hair that roused her attention. _The babe has Ned’s hair_ , she realized and when she took in Lady Lyanna she knew that the babe belonged to her. _Gods be good. She bore the King a bastard._

“Welcome, Lady Catelyn,” the young woman greeted her and dipped her head. Her expression could only be described as a mixture of weariness and relief. “I wasn’t sure if you wished to see me. I am sure you foremost came to see Ned and your Lord Father.”

“They told me Ned is accused of treason,” Cat replied, coming straight to the point. She didn’t come here to exchange pleasantries but to speak plainly. “Where is Ned? Have you seen him?”

“He is well,” Lyanna assured her and kissed the babe’s head. “I saw him a few days ago and if all goes well he will soon be a free man.”

Catelyn was stunned by this revelation, but remained sceptical. The girl in front of her may be Ned’s sister, but she had thrown away her honour to lay with the enemy.

Still, she tried her best to be polite.

“Can I see him?”

“Not now,” Lyanna replied and gave her an apologetic look as she rocked the babe. The babe looked at Cat with wide eyes, it’s hands curled in Lady Lyanna’s dress. “We will need Rhaegar’s…the King’s approval, but as I said…Ned will soon be a free man if he bends the knee.”

Cat felt no relief when she heard that. She hardly knew her husband, but she knew how proud men could be when it came to such matters. What if he refused? She would be a widow and her son…

“Well, then,” Cat countered and searched Lady Lyanna’s face. “When will I be able to see the King?”

“When he returns…soon,” Lady Lyanna assured her and forced a smile over her lips. Then she jerked her head at the babe. “Ned hasn’t seen him yet…his name is Prince Jaehaerys.”

“Prince,” Cat repeated in disbelief and stared again at the babe. _How is that even possible…the King had a wife…unless…_

“I wed Rhaegar,” Lyanna Stark informed her rather bluntly, probably alarmed by Cat’s silence. “I wed him under the Faith of the Old Gods. By the gods of my people I am his wife and my son trueborn. The Faith might think differently, but the King intends to legitimize him soon.”

Cat was again stunned to silence and tried to change the topic. She didn’t come here to fight, though the gurgling babe made her long for her own son. He had auburn hair and blue eyes like summer. In truth she had been rather disappointed that he had none of the Stark looks.

“My boy Robb is the same age,” Cat replied tensely. “He remained in Winterfell.”

“Robb,” Lyanna repeated and grimaced. “What a strange name for a Northman…”

“For Robert…Ned always spoke fondly of him…I thought it fitting,” Cat explained. The girl’s face had paled and changed to a haughty and tense expression.

“I would have named my babe Jon, but Rhaegar insisted on another name,” Lyanna replied and waved her hand at the young woman seated at the nearby table. _The nursemaid_ , Cat surmised by the wet stains on the upper part of her dress. The maid rose to her feet and took the babe, carrying out of the room. “A Targaryen Prince needs a proper name.”

Cat was again stunned to silence. She knew nothing of the Old Gods, but calling this bastard child a Prince was downright foolish. Cat loved her son, but she couldn’t understand how the girl could be proud to birth a bastard.

Lady Lyanna must have been able read her thoughts, because her next words were colder, with a hint of ice.

“I care not what the people say about me…How much do you know about my supposed abduction? Rhaegar allowed Ned to write to you…” she trailed off.

“He wrote me,” Catelyn confirmed calmly and sat down in a nearby chair. Lady Lyanna remained standing, her grey eyes fixed at Cat. “He told me about the Mad King’s actions …and what followed from it…Brandon believed that you were raped and abducted…he was so angry.”

A pained expression crossed Lyanna’s face and she averted her gaze as she answered.

“I loved Brandon…I loved him dearly. I also love Ned, though I would say that Benjen is my second half, but even I didn’t foresee that Brandon would be so brazen as to confront the King…” Lady Lyanna explained and lifted her gaze to look at Cat. “All I did was to escape Robert…I don’t know if you know about it, but I abhorred the match my Lord Father tried to impose on me.”

Cat tried to follow her words, but none of what the girl spoke made sense to her. Lord Robert would have made her Lady of the Stormlands, a position many a highborn girl dreamed of. Why change such a position to become mistress to a King?

“Tell me…,” Lady Lyanna prodded and broke the silence that had settled over them. ”Do you love Ned?”

Cat was taken aback by this question, but going by the girl’s bluntness she expected that Lady Lyanna wanted to hear an honest answer.

“I do not know him,” Cat admitted. “Mayhaps in time…I loved Brandon and he swore that he loved me too.”

“Of course he did,” Lyanna replied through gritted teeth and gave her a pained look. “He has a bastard daughter with Lady Ashara Dayne…Did you know that, my Lady?”

Cat felt like slapped, her tongue in knots, struggling to find a proper reply.

“Brandon fathered many more bastards,” Lyanna informed her promptly. “A boy and a girl…One died shortly after birth and the girl died from a fever. My Lord Father took good care to hide my brother’s past. As I said…I loved Brandon, but he is not the kind of man I want to be married to. Robert Baratheon was such a man as well. I am sure he told you how much he loved me and desired me, but in truth he never knew me…just as you didn’t know Brandon. Brandon could be incredibly charming, but he would have never kept to your bed, my Lady. You are lucky to have Ned. He won’t dishonour you in such a manner. Still, I wished Brandon had never died…I miss him every day.”

 _Could it be true_ , Cat wondered and looked at the girl. _Were all of Brandon’s sweet words a lie? Had he lain with another woman while she was waiting for him?_

“Why are you telling me this?” Cat asked and shuddered. “To hurt me?”

“To make you understand,” Lyanna replied. “I have a right to defend myself just as you have the right to judge me. I do understand if you dislike me, but I love Ned and I want him to be happy, but that won’t be possible if Brandon stands between you and him. Ned is not the kind of person who allows himself to be happy. I can already imagine what he is going to tell you… _I am not worthy to be Lord of Winterfell…you should have been Brandon’s_ …He will tell you that more than once, but do not be discouraged by his words, my Lady. That’s only his damn humbleness speaking. He will get over it in time.”

Cat nodded her head in acknowledgement. The anger was still there, simmering inside her, but she couldn’t deny that Lyanna Stark knew Ned better than her.

She exhaled deeply and let her anger go. She had found out about Ned, but there was still the matter of Riverrun and her Lord Father.

“You said that the King intends to free Ned if he bends the knee,” Cat repeated her earlier words. “What about my Lord Father? Riverrun is still under siege and Jon Arryn is still hiding away in the Vale.”

“I do not know the details, my Lady,” Lyanna Stark admitted and sat down on the opposing chair. “But the King also intends to pardon Jon Arryn…as for your Lord Father…it looks grim. I tried to reason with Rhaegar, but he feels that unlike Ned and Jon Arryn he had no reason to rebel against his King. The fact that his supporters are vying for blood makes it only harder. I tried my best.”

“My father is also your kin by marriage,” Cat reminded her, her voice taking an icy tone. She couldn’t help it when she imagined her elderly father rotting in the dungeons beneath the Red Keep. “Or have you forgotten that, my Lady? Surely, your _husband_ won’t kill one of his kin.”

“Robert was Rhaegar’s kin _by blood_ ,” Lyanna countered haughtily. “His grandmother was a Targaryen. Do you think he would have shown mercy to Rhaegar’s supporters and family despite their kinship? Nay, this is not a matter of blood or kinship, but of pride. Rhaegar fears to appear weak and a King who freshly assumed the crown cannot appear weak. That’s the crux of it all.”

Then Lady Lyanna exhaled deeply, a weary smile curling on her lips.

“Mayhaps you can sway his mind,” Lyanna added and jerked her head at the door. Catelyn had barely noticed the man’s entrance. She had imagined King Rhaegar to look like Aegon the Conqueror or some other Targaryen King, but when she laid eyes on Rhaegar Targaryen he lacked the sharpness of these men that came before him. The man in front of her was very beautiful, his face almost delicate and framed by soft silver hair that reminded her of moonlight. His whole expression could only be described as flustered.

“Welcome, your Grace,” Lyanna Stark greeted the King in a jesting tone. “As you can see…we have a visitor…Lady Catelyn Stark. She wishes to speak with you.”

“My Lady Stark,” the King greeted her politely, pulled the slender crown from his head and handed it to Lady Lyanna. She glowed with happiness, like a newly-wed maid, all previous coldness forgotten.

It made her wonder about Princess Elia and the King’s other children. _Did the King sent them away?_

All these thoughts whirled through her head as she watched the King in silence, waiting for his approval to speak.

Yet it was Lady Lyanna who assured her when she patted her shoulder and whispered into her ear.

“You may speak, my Lady.”

“Lyanna speaks true,” the King replied and smiled when Lyanna returned with two cups of wine, handing one to Rhaegar and the other one to Cat.

“It will help, my Lady,” Lyanna assured her and swept out of the room while the King sat down and brought the cup to his lips, his dark eyes eying her across the room with an expectant look. _He has the same eyes as the babe_ , she realized then and banished away her fear.

“What can I do for you, my Lady?” the King asked her at last and placed his cup on the nearby table.

“I came to speak to you about my husband Eddard Stark and my father, Lord Hoster Tully.”

“I am aware of that,” the King remarked, a weary smile crossing over his lips. “It should please you to hear that your husband no longer resides in a cell. I spoke to him only recently and he is prepared to bend the knee. If all goes well you shall be able to return home in good time…I also intend to pardon Lord Jon Arryn, who I think is wed to your sister Lady Lysa Arryn. Regarding your Lord Father…I have to take into consideration that his crimes are much worse than that of Lord Jon Arryn and your husband. I hold no love for Robert Baratheon, a man who tried to usurp my birth right and would have probably put my family to the sword, but I do understand that he and Lord Jon Arryn also had good intentions when they called their banners as did your husband…Jon Arryn wanted to protect his wards and Robert Baratheon wanted to save Lady Lyanna.”

“I was betrothed to Brandon Stark,” Catelyn countered and forced herself to look at him. She felt suddenly very tired and following Lady Lyanna’s advice she took a sip form the wine in her hand, before continuing to speak. “My Lord Father was fond of him…and your Lord Father killed the kin of one of his bannermen…Lord Jeffory Mallister.”

“I am aware of that,” Rhaegar replied grudgingly. His indigo eyes pierced hers across the room as he lifted the crown from the table and presented it to her.

“Mayhaps I chose the wrong words to explain my reasons, my Lady,” the King said and held the crown in his lap as some men do with swords to show their hostility. “But let me try again. In the eyes of my supporters all of the rebels are traitors. They do not think of their reasons, but only of the fact that they dared to name Robert Baratheon their King. Think of my ancestors what you want, some were good and some were cruel, but it were the Targaryens who have ruled the Iron Throne for nearly three-hundred years. Tell me, what right did Robert Baratheon have to call himself King? I grant you that my father was a cruel man and I am even prepared to admit that I committed mistakes in how I handled the situation, but my son is innocent of my faults. Pray tell me, what would have Robert Baratheon done with my son if he made it here to King’s Landing? Do you think he would have rocked him in his arms and sang him a lullaby? Please tell me, my Lady and I shall tell you why I cannot show mercy to your father.”

Cat had listened in silence. The King had spoken his mind in a clear and determined tone, devoid of hostility and yet she sensed it in his bearing _. He is holding himself back_ , she realized and was suddenly aware that this man could do away with her at any moment.

Cat didn’t know Robert Baratheon, but she recalled his anger. She was no foolish girl either. When crowns are claimed there is a great likelihood that the previous heirs find an early death. Prince Aegon couldn’t be much older than two years and Lady Lyanna’s bastard prince was shy away from a half year. She shuddered and lifted her head to look at the King, forcing her answer over her lips.

“I cannot claim to know Robert Baratheon’s mind,” she admitted and tried her best to keep her composure. “But I think that killing an elderly man like my Lord Father shan’t bring you many friends. Mercy has a much stronger effect than revenge. At least allow him to take the black…that would be humiliation enough for him, but the rebels would see that you are of a different cloth than your Lord Father…,” she continued, but was promptly cut off.

“Pray tell me, how am I like my father, my Lady?” the King asked, his voice taking a hostile tone. “My Lord Father would have burned your husband and father alive. My Lords father would have allowed his men to take turns on you alone for coming here to plead for the life of a traitor. I have my faults, but do not ever speak to me about the Mad King. You do not know his cruelty,” he added and paused for a moment, his hand brushing over the smooth surface of the crown.

Then he cleared his throat and spoke again.

“One last question my Lady,” he said in a heavy voice. “Who gave your family its holdings and named them the overlords over the Riverlands?”

The question cut deeper than anticipated and it took her a moment to recover from the previous exchange.

“The Targaryens,” she admitted in a trembling voice and silent.

“And what did he do? He joined the rebels and wed his daughters to the two major rebel leaders. I regret Lord Mallister’s death, but the Mad King didn’t threaten your father’s life. He had no personal reason like your husband and Jon Arryn…or for that matter Robert Baratheon…,” he continued to explain, but was interrupted by Cat.

“Forgive me…I think I know what you are trying to say, your Grace, but let me ask you this…Is that really what you want or is it just your pride that’s driving you to this? I do not deny my father’s faults nor do I deny that he aided Robert, but wasn’t it Aegon the Conqueror who showed mercy to his enemies when he could have simply killed them? Ask my father to bend the knee in exchange for joining the Night’s Watch and the rebel lords will see your goodwill instead of the blood that was shed in this war. They might not forgive you, but nobody will be able to claim that King Rhaegar was a vengeful man.”

Somewhere in between, King Rhaegar had fallen silent, his gaze distant and his hands curled around the crown in his lap.

“I shall think about your words, my Lady,” the King replied at last and put the crown back on the table, a ghost of a smile curling on his lips. ”Meanwhile I ask you to stay here…if all goes well this war will be over in a few weeks. I shall also arrange that you can see your husband…and father.”

…


	8. Arthur

**Arthur**

“You look so pale,” whispered Lady Catelyn Stark as she took in her husband’s appearance. In truth Lord Eddard Stark was still under guard and a traitor, but going by his clothing one could have taken him for a free man. He had even shaved his beard and cut his hair, but Arthur had to agree with Lady Stark. Lady Lyanna’s brother looked thin and exhausted. “Did you eat properly?”

Arthur had averted his gaze, trying to give them privacy, but that was hardly possible in the small round chamber that served as their meeting space.

_At least they don’t have to speak in a dungeon._

Only a day ago he had led the Lady down to the dungeons to speak to her father Lord Hoster Tully.

Arthur had heard only bits and pieces of their conversation, but knew that she had relayed to him the offer the King had made to Lady Catelyn. _Take the black or die_ , Arthur recalled.

Lady Catelyn had looked incredibly relieved when the King made the offer to her, but Arthur had his doubts. Some might see dying as an easier path than to spend the rest of one’s days rotting at the Wall.

“I am well, my Lady,” Lord Stark replied in a low voice and lifted the Lady’s hand to his lips. “I shall eat more once I have left this place…,” he whispered, obviously hoping that Arthur might not hear what he had said.

Arthur didn’t fault him for disliking this city. Before coming here Arthur had imagined the city of the dragon kings as a place full of splendour and grace, but that was another delusions.

Not that he regretted serving Rhaegar. He loved him like a brother, mayhaps even more than his own brother, but he had hated King Aerys with burning passion. More than once he had wanted to bury his blade in the King’s back, but something had always held him back. It could have been his honour or fear, but whatever it was, it shamed him deeply that it was Ser Jaime Lannister who claimed this deed for himself.

“We can leave, Ser Arthur,” Lord Eddard Stark’s voice snapped him out of his stupor. He hadn’t even noticed his approach and turned around to find Lady Catelyn slipping out of the door, though they would see each other soon in the Throne Room. “They are waiting for us, aren’t they?”

“Aye,” Arthur confirmed and unlocked the other door on the opposing side of the room. Behind it he found the guards he had left there waiting for him. “It is time to end this war.”

“I hope you are right, Ser Arthur,” muttered Lord Eddard Stark. “I hope you are right.”

They climbed down a spiral of wooden steps, passed several doors and crossed another long empty hallway, before they reached one of the many entrances to the Throne Room. Arthur knew that the whole court had assembled to pay witness to the rebel lords’ vows of loyalty. It truth, it was was a power play, though Arthur doubted Rhaegar enjoyed it. He had always preferred the solitude of Dragonstone over the life at court. Shortly after his wedding to Princess Elia he had retreated there for nearly a whole year until the King had demanded his return to present his newborn daughter to the Queen and King. The reasons for Prince Rhaegar’s long absence from court had stirred whispers of rebellion among the courtiers and while these rumours were certainly true, it had taken one more year before Rhaegar had forged a plan to strike against the King. The Tourney of Harrenhall should have marked the end of King Aerys’ reign, but nothing came of it. Someone had whispered in the King’s ear, informing him about his son’s plans and had ruined a year of planning in the matter of a heartbeat. This man had been Lord Varys, the former Master of Whisperers, who had supposedly disappeared a day after the news of the victory at the Trident had reached King’s Landing. 

“Shall we?” he asked Lord Stark and graced him with a warm smile, before he unlocked the large wooden door and pushed it open. “Your audience is waiting for you.”

Lord Stark didn’t answer. He only gave Arthur a grim nod and followed after him.

As expected, the Throne Room was filled to the brim. Courtiers, guards, ladies, lords, their children and even the servants came. The voices of hundreds of people hummed in Arthur’s mind as he led Lord Eddard Stark before the King, though for Arthur he would always the young boy he had unhorsed during their first tilt.

Even as an ally to the King he felt discomfort when he saw Rhaegar seated on the barbed chair that had been forged by Aegon the Conqueror.

Rhaegar was no Aegon the Conqueror. His face was too soft and his eyes lacked the burning passion that lay in the Conqueror’s gaze. He also lacked the strong build and the muscular stature. Rhaegar lithe and athletic, though that certainly didn’t mean he was unable to hold his own in a battle. He had always bested Arthur with the lance while Arthur had always surpassed him with the blade. Still, Arthur had been terribly worried when Rhaegar rode out to meet Robert Baratheon in battle, because he had recalled his display of strength during the melee. His fears had been confirmed when Robert Baratheon and his men had nearly managed to cut down Rhaegar’s guard. In the end it was not King Rhaegar who slew Robert Baratheon, but Ser Barristan Selmy. Rhaegar had been very upset about his failure and Arthur had tried his best to comfort him, but knowing Rhaegar would fret over this matter for the next decade.

Arthur didn’t care that Rhaegar failed to kill Robert Baratheon in a heroic display swordmanship. The Seven Kingdoms had brave warriors aplenty, but what they really needed was a proper King. Nobody could deny Rhaegar’s failings, but Arthur believed wholeheartedly that Rhaegar would be this King.

A thousand eyes seemed to follow them as they made their way towards the steps, leading up to the Iron Throne. At the bottom of the steps he spotted his remaining brothers, Ser Barristan Selmy, Ser Gerold Hightower and Ser Oswell Whent. Ser Jaime Lannister had been released from his vows while Prince Lewyn Martell and Ser Jonothor Darry had both perished in battle. Who would fill their positions was still undecided, but Arthur knew that they had suffered a great loss.

Below the steps he found the other rebel lords assembled. There was Lord Hoster Tully, who had also been allowed to change into fresh clothing and of course Lord Yohn Royce, who came here to speak on behalf of Lord Jon Arryn, the Lord of the Vale. Both had lost kinsmen to King Aerys’ cruelty. Jon Arryn had lost his nephew and heir Elbert Arryn while Lord Royce had lost his cousin Kyle Royce. Beside him stood a young woman, who carried a boy not older than a nameday or two. This blond-haired and fat-cheeked boy was Harrold Hardyng, Lord Jon Arryn’s current heir. The old man had taken another wife, but that didn’t change the boy’s value. Lord Jon Arryn had raised his banners to protect his wards, but this boy was a blood relative of his. Arthur doubted he would dare to break the peace if it meant this innocent boy could come to harm. The same could be said about the young black-haired girl that was clutching the hand of her nursemaid. This girl was called Mya Stone and would one day be the future Lady of the Stormlands unless Renly Baratheon could be found in the near future. In truth, the King had recently named Jon Connington the Lord Protector of the Stormlands, meant to rule until said girl came of age, but the symbolic appearance next to the other rebel lords was equally important.

There were other hostages that had yet to be exchanged. Edmure Tully was one of them, that is if Lord Hoster agrees to accept the King’s offer, and Benjen Stark, though the King had promised that the boy would be allowed to remain for a full year in Winterfell before would be expected to come here to King’s Landing. In exchange the King had offered his brother Prince Viserys as a hostage to reside with the rebel lords.

The gold cloaks tapped their spears on the ground, imposing silence on the humming crowed.

“You have been called here to renew your vows of loyalty, my Lords,” King Rhaegar declared loudly, his voice echoing through the long hall as he shifted his attention to Lord Yohn Royce and Lord Eddard Stark. “Let us leave our past grievances behind us and return to peace and civility. Bend the knee and your rebellious actions shall be forgiven. What do you say, my lords? Will you bend the knee?”

Arthur took in the reactions of the rebel lords. Lord Yohn Royce’s face looked as if it had been carved from a block of stone. Exhaling deeply, he stepped towards the High Septon and laid his hand on the Seven Pointed Star, clutched between the robed man’s hands.

“On behalf of Jon Arryn, the Lord of the Vale I swear to uphold the peace. This I swear.”

The King nodded his head, his silver hair spilling over his shoulders as he leaned forward.

“And will you accept the conditions laid down in our peace treaty?”

Lord Royce clenched his teeth and his grey eyes darted to the babe Harrold Hardyng and the young girl named Mya Stone.

“On behalf of Lord Jon Arryn, I accept the conditions laid down in our peace treaty and bring you Harrold Hardyng and Lady Mya Stone.”

A ghost of a smile showed on the King’s lips as he addressed Lord Royce.

“Harrold Hardyng and Mya Stone shall be treated with care and respect,” the King assured Lord Royce and the Lord Hardyng’s mother. “Lord Hardyng will receive his education at the side of my son, Crown Prince Aegon and Lady Mya Stone will one day be the Lady of the Stormlands.”

Neither Lord Royce nor the Lady returned the smile, but that was to be expected. Especially, it must be painful for the Lady to part from her babe. Nevertheless, she kept her composure.

After all was said and done, Lord Royce and said Lady took their place among the retinue they had travelled here.

Again, a heavy silence fell over the crowd as the King’s indigo gaze darted to Lord Eddard Stark.

“What about, Lord Eddard?” the King asked. “I am aware that the Lords of the North give their vows before a weirwood tree, but your honour is known far and wide. I think your vow should suffice.”

Lord Eddard Stark nodded his head and sank down on one knee, his head bowed. “I, Eddard Stark, Lord Paramount of the North, swear to uphold the peace. This I swear.”

“I accept your vow of loyalty, my Lord Stark,” the King confirmed. “And will you accept the conditions laid down in our peace treaty.”

Lord Stark nodded his head in confirmation.

“I accept the conditions. My brother Benjen Stark will join court in a year from now.”

This time, the King’s smile reached his face.

“You may rise and join your family.”

Lord Stark rose slowly to his feet and joined Lady Catelyn, who stood in the first row. Arthur could hardly make out her features, but his attention was soon directed to Lord Hoster Tully.

“Lord Hoster Tully,” the King said in a clear and loud voice. “Did Lady Catelyn relay my offer to you?”

Lord Hoster nodded his head, his voice icy. “She did.”

Rhaegar looked tense as he leaned forward.

“What do you say, my Lord? Will you take the black and live? Or will you die?”

A moment of heavy silence followed, before Lord Hoster Tully gave his answer.

“I rather die standing than to bend the knee to you.”

Whispering filled Arthur’s ears as his eyes darted involuntarily to Lady Catelyn. Lord Eddard Stark’s arm was wound around her shoulder as she struggled against his grip. He was speaking to her, but his voice was drowned out by the voices of the crowd surrounding them.

If Rhaegar was surprised it didn’t how on his face. He looked incredibly tense as he brushed aside his red velvet cloak, falling around his shoulders like a shroud of blood.

“May I ask why, my Lord?”

“I am not your Lord. I rather die as a man standing than to rot at the Wall. You think me a traitor…I accept that, but I cannot kneel.”

Another moment of heavy silence passed as Rhaegar’s façade slipped. It lasted only for the blink of a moment, but Arthur saw the grimace of pain on his features as he spoke again.

“Riverrun will fall, my lord,” Rhaegar warned. “Your death would mean nothing in the grand scheme of things and your son would be stripped of his lands and titles.”

The King’s threat seemed to move something inside Lord Hoster Tully. He suddenly trembled, his face changing to a rather pale complexion.

Going by his stunned look it seemed he didn’t know that refusing to bend the knee would have far more reaching consequences than just his death. It was a cruel thing to do, but it was wise of Rhaegar to bring it up now.

“You cannot…,” Hoster Tully began, but was promptly cut off.

“Do you think I would make empty threats in front of my subjects?" the King asked icily and searched Lord Hoster's face. “I will only ask one more time, my Lord. Will you take the black or die?”

Finally, Lord Hoster Tully sank to his knees, his head bowed.

“I humbly accept my punishment, your Grace,” he declared in a trembling voice. “I humbly accept my punishment.”

…


	9. Ned

**Ned**

His wife looked as pale as a piece of parchment, though she hid her sorrow well. A day ago Lord Hoster Tully had bent the knee and in the same night he had hung himself in his cell, probably to avoid the shame of being send to the Wall. _He bend the knee for his boy_ , Ned was sure and shifted his attention back to his wife. She was seated near the windowsill, her head pressed against the painted window. Her hair was open and slightly tousled.

It had been a sleepless night for her, but Ned couldn’t help to envy her for her composure. She had not wept or shown any anger. Perhaps she was weeping silent tears, but then she had not even wept on their wedding day, unlike her sister Lady Lysa, who had been sobbing throughout the whole ceremony, though Catelyn had clearly wanted to wed someone else. This other person had been his brother Brandon Stark.

In truth, he didn’t know her better than any other women in this keep, though she had birthed their son and he had given his vows to her. Mayhaps, Lyanna had a point when she said that Robert didn’t truly know her. Ned had always been convinced that these things would come natural, but now he was beginning to realize it wouldn’t be as easy as he thought.

Nothing came naturally. He had no idea what to say. He felt helpless and foolish.

Brandon would have known what to do. He would have flashed Catelyn a blazing smile and told her that everything would be alright, but Ned was not his brother. He was Eddard Stark, the Silent Wolf. He was no man of great words nor would he ever be.

_Do something_ , he told himself for the hundred time. _Say something._

“My Lady,” he whispered. “Can I do something?”

She lifted her head and looked at him in silence. Her gaze was distant as if she was looking through him, but then she shook her head and gave him an apologetic look.

“Catelyn,” she corrected him at last. “My Lady is a bit too formal, don’t you think?”

Ned nodded his head and forced a smile over his lips. His body was as tense as a bowstring and he struggled for the right words.

“Ned,” he stuttered. ”Lyanna gave me this name when we were children. In time even my Lord Father started to call me Ned.”

“Ned,” she repeated and sighed deeply, a ghost of a smile curling on her lips. “That sounds much better than, my Lord. I shall call you Ned….if it pleases you.”

“Of course, it pleases me…,” he confirmed and touched her shoulder. “I just…,” he trailed off.

“You don’t know what to say?” Cat asked and squeezed his hand. “It is no surprise…we hardly know each other. Your sister gave me much to think about. She told me about Lady Ashara Dayne and that she birthed Brandon a bastar…a babe.”

Ned froze and was about to pull away his hand, but she stopped him.

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” she apologized. “What I am trying to say...I thought I loved Brandon and perhaps I did. Not that it matters. He is dead and gone…like my father. I should have known that he would never voluntarily join the Night’s Watch…I was foolish.”

Hearing her pained voice, he spoke without thinking.

“You are not foolish,” he assured her. “He ended it according to his own conditions. That’s better than a traitor’s death. Most will remember him fondly…I am sure of it. I saw how much effort it took him to bend the knee…he did it for Lord Edmure.”

Cat nodded her head in understanding and dropped her hand in her lap.

“I know that,” she whispered and sighed deeply. “But this whole war was senseless. They died for nothing.”

“Most wars are senseless,” Ned countered. It was the first thought that came to his mind when he thought back on the events that had unfolded since his father’s and brother’s death. “In truth, I wasn’t fighting this war for Robert’s crown. Aerys was my enemy and not the Targaryen dynasty as a whole. Jon Arryn and your father who hatched the plan and Robert followed along,” he tried to explain, struggling for the right words. He suddenly recalled Robert’s rage and how he had sworn to kill every last Targaryen. “He would have killed my sister if he knew the truth and he would have killed her babe too. He would have never forgiven such a betrayal. Not that I would have allowed it, but I am glad he never found out the truth. At least that way I can recall him as he was…the boy I called my friend.”

Catelyn didn’t speak for a long time as if to ponder his words. Then she sighed and brushed her auburn hair out of her face.

“I want to forget about this war,” she said at last and forced a smile over her lips. “I want to leave this city.”

Ned nodded his head, sharing her wish, but aware that he had yet to speak to his sister. Their last talk had been hostile and he longed to see her boy, his nephew.

“We shall leave soon,” Ned promised her. “But I need to speak to my sister.

If Catelyn disapproved of his intentions it didn’t show on her face. Still, Ned was slightly relieved. He doubted his wife and Lyanna would ever get along. They were like day and night, like the moon and the sun, like duty and passion, two incompatible forces that could not exist closely next to each other.

“I understand,” Catelyn said at last and the same evening Ned set out to fulfil his intentions.

Lyanna’s chambers were in complete disarray. Everywhere he looked he found pieces of clothing, books and other belongings strewn over the bed and the nearby table. She was packing her things, so much he could see. It seemed her departure for Dragonstone was drawing ever closer as was the King’s coronation.

“I think we have a visitor, my Lady,” remarked a dark-haired woman, who suckled a babe at her breast. The babe couldn’t be more than a few moons. The boy drank greedily, his brown hair falling into his face whenever he turned his head. _This must be the boy_ , he thought and his heart was suddenly filled with the longing to hold his own son. _Robb_ , he recalled and tried to imagine him as Catelyn had described him, all red-haired and blue-eyed like his mother.

Lyanna, who had been folding garments, lifted her head. Ned expected a smile, but her jaw was as tense as a bowstring as she opened her mouth to speak.

“Ned,” was all she said and sucked in a breath. Then she brushed her dishevelled brown hair out of her face and shifted her attention to the nursemaid.

“Wylla, would you please…,” she began, but Ned cut her off when he realized her intentions.

“I came here to see the boy,” he explained rather awkwardly. “And to speak…” he trailed off.

Lyanna’s features softened immediately and she nodded her head in understanding.

She even smiled a little and made her way over to the nursemaid. The boy finished his meal a moment later and she carefully lifted him in Lyanna’s arms. He gurgled like most babes do and Lyanna grinned, kissing his head and clutching him tightly to her chest.

Ned felt as if he had been thrown back in time. This was the smile of his sister, not the stranger he had met upon his arrival in King’s Landing.

“Is something wrong?” Lyanna asked him, her brows furrowed in confusion as she moved closer to show him the babe. The boy looked up at him with dark eyes, his small hands fisted in the seam of his mother’s dress.

Ned shook his head and spread his hands in front of him.

“Let me hold him,” he offered.

Lyanna’s face lightened up like a room full of candles as she lifted the babe in Ned’s arms. The boy squirmed, but didn’t weep. He simply stared at Ned with these dark eyes. The King’s eyes if he was not mistaken, but the way he scrunched his nose made him think of Lyanna. It seemed he was unhappy to be in the arms of a stranger, though like before, he remained silent and started to suck on his thumb.

“Forgive me,” Ned added and searched Lyanna’s face. “I forgot his name.”

“Jaehaerys,” Lyanna confirmed and leaned over to pat the boy’s head. “A mouthful of a name, isn’t?”

“Very true,” Ned agreed. “These Targaryens fancy their complicated names, don’t they?”

Lyanna chuckled, but Ned couldn’t help but to notice the tension in her bearing.

“I wish I could have called him Jon,” she replied with a heavy sign. “I always liked the stories about King Jon Stark. He built the Wolf’s Den…,” she trailed off, silence spreading between them like a wide abyss.

“King Jaehaerys was a good King,” Ned countered gently and rocked the boy. He seemed to appreciate his actions, because he promptly closed his eyes and fell asleep.

“My son will be no King,” she corrected him quickly. “I told you before…I didn’t choose Rhaegar, because I want my son seated on the Iron Throne.”

“Of course,” Ned confirmed and lifted his gaze to look at her. “I only meant to say that your boy carries the name of a good man.”

He knew that she wouldn’t appreciate this question, but seeing her sad smile he felt compelled to so. He may hold a grudge against her, but she was still his sister, his blood.

“You could name him Jon,” Ned countered hesitatingly. “You don’t have to stay here. You could come with me back to Winterfell. You could live with us.”

Lyanna looked stunned, a ghost of a smile curling on her lips. It was a smile, both happy and sad.

“And endure your wife’s glowering until the end of my days?” she asked bluntly as ever, though not in a cruel tone. “No, I made my choice. Dragonstone will be my home.”

Ned knew that she was right, but he couldn’t help but to give her this last assurance.

“Winterfell will always be your home,” Ned told her and lifted the boy back in her arms. “What I said in our last conversation…I meant. I am still angry with you and I doubt that will change in the near future, but you are my sister and my blood. Robert was my friend, but I would have never allowed him to harm you. Had you sent me a raven…something…I would have stopped fighting.”

Lyanna nodded her head, tears glittering in her eyes as she stood on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek.

“I don’t doubt that, but Robert would have never stopped fighting. You know it.”

Ned swallowed hard, unable to deny the truth.

“Mayhaps,” Ned admitted and pulled her into a loose embrace. Then he let go of her and touched her shoulder. “But my offer stands. You may come home any time you wish. As I said…Winterfell will always be your home.”

 ...


	10. Elia

**Elia**

The sound of the dribbling rain calmed her. She had always liked the pouring rains that would sometimes overcome King’s Landing to wash way the grime that had accumulated over the last year. Elia was never particularly pious, but if there were such gods, then such a blessing must be granted by them. She was so sure of it, because even the gods would frown at the stinking mess King’s Landing truly was. Sometimes she wondered what Aegon the Conqueror would have thought about the city he founded.

_He would roll in his grave_ , Elia thought and pulled the drapes back into place.

Ashara Dayne, who was seated on the opposing side of the carriage, smiled and leaned closer.

“What are you smiling about, your Grace?”

“Nothing in particular,” Elia replied and straightened herself. The moon in Dorne had helped to calm her nerves and to regain her health, but the anger was still there, simmering inside her chests. Rhaegar’s words and deeds had cut deeper than she wanted to admit, but Doran’s cool words upon arrival had hurt even more. She should have expected it beforehand, but Elia hadn’t been able to think straight after seeing Rhaegar again. Now she felt slightly ashamed of herself. She had run away like a little girl, hoping to find understanding and consolation in her brother’s presence. Yet Doran was not the kind of man who cared about feelings. Oberyn had been angered on her account, but Doran had calmly ordered her to return to court and do her duty.

_You are a Queen. It matters not if the King takes his mistress to bed, as long as you can wear the crown._

“Doesn’t sound like it to me,” Ashara remarked sceptically and brushed her inky braid over her shoulder. Her difficult pregnancy had left their marks on her body. Her breasts were fuller and there was still a small swell visibly where she had carried her babe, a girl if Elia recalled correctly. _Lyarra_ , Ashara had called her, the bastard of Brandon Stark.

“I am always prepared to listen…,” Lady Ashara began, but Elia silenced her with a shake of her head.

“I have no need of comfort,” she told her former-lady-in-waiting. “I know how to conduct myself.” _Unlike you_ , she wanted to add. She had always liked Lady Ashara, but then she had lowered herself to lay with this foolish man Brandon Stark and now she had to suffer the consequences. Elia doubted it would be difficult for her to find a match among a younger son, but a good match was out of the question now that she had a bastard daughter, especially with a Northman. Returning to her old position as Elia’s lady-in-waiting would also be impossible. A disgraced woman had no place in a King’s court, no matter how much Elia valued her loyalty, though she was sure that Ashara already knew that. She always knew her place.

_She came to see her brother_ , Elia guessed and forced a smile over her lips when she saw the Lady Ashara’s distraught expression. “Forgive my sharp rebuke, but I doubt my meeting with the King will be pleasant. We parted in anger.”

“Of course,” Lady Ashara replied calmly and averted her gaze. “I understand.”

The rain had died down when they arrived at the Red Keep. There she was greeted by Ser Arthur, who graced her with a warm smile.

“Welcome back, your Grace,” he said and dipped his head in greeting. He looked well, but his bearing revealed his tension. “The King bid me to fetch you upon your arrival.”

Elia couldn’t help but to frown. She had hoped for a few hours of peace before facing the King.

_No, he will wait. I shall teach him._

“I am rather tired,” she replied politely. “Can it wait?”

“I fear not,” Ser Arthur explained. “Your children are most anxious to see you.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling suddenly very silly. “I am most anxious to see them too,” she added and jerked her head at Lady Ashara, who had just climbed out of the carriage.

“Sister!” Ser Arthur exclaimed and pulled her into a tight hug. Once he had freed himself from the embraced he eyed his sister from head to toe as if to make sure that everything was in place. “What a pleasant surprise. Did you come all this way to see me?”

“Of course,” Ashara confirmed warmly. “And to accompany, her Grace.”

Arthur nodded his head in understanding and shifted his attention back to Elia.

“Lady Ashara may accompany us,” Elia offered, before Ser Arthur was able to open his mouth. “I am sure the King will be pleased to see her again.”

Arthur’s smile only brightened. _A falling star indeed_. “I understand, your Grace. Please, allow me to show you the way.”

Elia knew the way, but she didn’t mind being escorted by Ser Arthur. He was a gallant man and took the time to inform her about everything that had transpired during their absence, though most of she already knew. Even in Dorne they had heard that the King managed to subjugate the rebel lords.

“Sadly, Grand Maester Pycelle has passed away a few days ago,” Ser Arthur informed her as they climbed up a pair of swirling steps. “He was killed by cutthroat after he had sought the services of a whore.”

Elia nodded her head, mulling over this new development. She had never liked Tywin Lannister’s lapdog. Especially, the Queen Mother had been subject to his incompetence and had lost one babe after another. At least that fate Rhaegar had spared her by keeping her in Dragonstone and consulting a Maester from the Citadel. He had even tried to convince his Lord Father about the man’s abilities, but as so often King Aerys had ignored his son’s advice.

Thus it didn’t surprise her that Rhaegar had wasted no time to get rid of _him_.

“And Lord Tywin is in the dark about the King’s actions?” Elia asked and lowered her voice.

Ser Arthur chuckled and gave her a knowing smile.

“I hope so, for the King’s sake.”

“For all our sake,” Elia confirmed, though this was something she approved of. Pycelle needed to go.

“What about Lord Varys?” she asked as they stopped at the top of the stairs. Her breathing was slightly laboured and she needed a moment to catch her breath. “Is there a sign of him?”

Ser Arthur laughed and held the door open for them.

“There is no sign of the spider, your Grace.”

“Good,” Elia replied and stepped through the door, followed by Lady Ashara. “Very good.”

She had barely entered the room when she heard the sweet giggle of her little girl. Elia smiled, longing to hold her in her arms, but when she rounded the corner she found another face that dimmed her happiness. She should have expected it, but she found Rhaenys seated in Rhaegar’s lap, her nimble fingers brushing over the harp placed in front of them. Aegon was also there, crawling on the floor and throwing his toys towards the nursemaid.

“I think we have a visitor, sweetling,” Rhaegar explained calmly and patted her dark hair. Rhaenys lifted her head and her dark eyes met hers across the room. They glittered like two twin stars as she left Rhaegar’s embrace to rush towards Elia.

Elia barely managed to lift her up. She had grown by a handful of inches or so she estimated.

“You have grown so much,” Elia remarked and placed a kiss on the girl’s cheek.

Rheanys giggled as she was placed back on the ground.

“I am big,” she explained and turned around to point at Rhaegar. “Papa allowed me to play with his hap.”

“Harp,” Elia corrected her, took her hand and pointed at Lady Ashara. “Look who I brought with me?”

“Lady Ashara!” her little girl exclaimed and promptly attacked Lady Ashara’s skirt. “Are you going to stay with us?”

Lady Ashara placed a kiss on Rhaenys’ cheek and whispered her answer in the girl’s ear. Elia had long picked Aegon from the ground. He was barely a year and more interested in his toy dragon than her.

It was no surprise to her. She hadn’t seen him in three moons, half a lifetime for a babe like him.

“Where is Viserys?” Elia inquired, but avoided to look at Rhaegar.

“He travelled with my Lady Mother to Dragonstone,” Rhaegar replied and rose to his feet to greet Lady Ashara. “It is a pleasant surprise to have you here, my Lady. Are you here to visit Arthur?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “I came to see Arthur, but I also hoped to speak to Lord Eddard Stark. I wanted to inform him about the existence of his niece.”

“Sadly, Lord Stark departed a fortnight ago,” Rhaegar replied. “But I am sure it will please you to hear that Lady Lyanna informed Lord Eddard about the girl’s existence.”

“I see,” Ashara said and smiled at Rhaegar as she walked backwards to the door. “I shall write to him then, but I think it is for the best if I leave you now.”

“I think it would be for the best if the children accompany Lady Ashara, don’t you think so, husband?”

Rhaegar’s face was unreadable as he met her gaze.

“A good idea,” agreed at last. Lady Ashara lowered her head in acceptance as she smile down at Rhaenys. “Shall we go outside? I think Aegon is in dire need of fresh air, don’t you think so, Princess?”

“Oh, yes!” Rhaenys replied cheerfully and pulled on Lady Ashara’s arm. “Let us go and search for Balerion! Aegon can help too!”

Thus Lady Ashara departed in company of Rhaenys and Aegon, who was carried by his nursemaid.

A long moment of silence passed between them as Rhaegar walked to the nearby table and poured wine into a cup.

“Do you want a cup?” he asked politely, but she shook her head.

“What will happen now?”

Rhaegar sighed and drank deeply, before he turned around to look at her.

“I already told you,” he replied tensely and searched her gaze across the room. “You will be Queen and Lady Lyanna will reside at Dragonstone. That’s all I can give you.”

Elia clenched her teeth and tightened her grip on the handle of her chair.

“I will accept it as long as I don’t have to see her…or that child of hers.”

Rhaegar didn’t answer at once. He took another sip from his cup, before spoke again.

“That will be unavoidable,” Rhaegar retorted. “Jaehaerys will be brought to court once he is old enough to begin his education. He will grow up with Aegon, whether you like it or not. I will tolerate no enmity between my children.”

Then he placed the cup on the table and stepped towards her. He didn’t touch her, but simply looked at her.

“I don’t expect of you to love the boy,” Rhaegar told her and met her gaze. “But I shall not look kindly on your family if one of your brother’s poisons find their way anyway near my son or Lady Lyanna. This is no empty threat.”

Elia was shocked that he would even suggest something like that, but then she also knew Oberyn. He was often blinded by his emotions. It didn’t surprise her that Rhaegar might think him a threat.

“My brother is not the kind of man who murders women and little babes,” she countered and met his gaze. “As long as Lady Lyanna keeps in her place I am prepared to overlook her existence and that of her…child. Can you accept that?”

“I can,” Rhaegar agreed and moved towards the door. “Arthur will lead you to your chambers. My Lady Mother took all her belongings to Dragonstone…the Queen’s chamber is yours, your Grace.”

“Rhaegar,” she couldn’t help but to call after him. He stopped and turned around to look at her. “I heard what you did with Pycelle. I approve of your actions, but you could have asked for my help. Oberyn could have helped you with this problem. As you said…I am your Queen and I am prepared to work with you if the matter concerns the safety of our children.”

Rhaegar’s face softened a little and he dipped his head in acceptance.

“Good to know. You should attend to the children. They missed you terribly.”

Elia nodded her head.

“I will do that.”

…


	11. Cersei

**Cersei**

“Why did you call me here, father?” Cersei asked as she fluttered into her father’s solar.

“Close the door,” Lord Tywin Lannister ordered in a tone that left no room for further questions and put away the parchment he had been reading. In fact, the whole table was littered with parchments and some half-eaten breakfast, which did not surprise her. It was her father’s custom to eat while working. _A lion is never idle_ , he used to say to her and Jaime when they were children. “What I am going to tell you is not meant for the ears of others.”

Cersei was surprised to hear such words from her father’s lips. He hardly ever consulted her in confidential matters. The matters of the family were meant for the ears of Uncle Kevan or perhaps Jaime, but never her.

It was bad enough that Jaime is going to be wed to this dim-witted Hightower girl, but then her father never cared about his children’s wishes. He sometimes listened to Jaime, who was always his favourite, but in this matter he remained firm. _The King desires this match_ , he had told Jaime with a firm voice, who had of course accepted their father’s wishes without a hint of protest, though she knew how much he had wished to remain in the Kingsguard. _My poor brother was always too weak for this world._

Cersei didn’t even doubt that Jaime would perform his duties admirably. The Hightower girl was a known beauty and could stir would stir any man’s cock, but Cersei was sure that Jaime would be bored with her in the matter of a year. _Beauty cannot eradicate stupidity._

“Did you close the door properly?” her father asked her again, as if she was some silly little girl. Such condescending behaviour never failed to stir her anger.

“I closed the door,” she confirmed sullenly and sat down. Her father’s solar was a spacious room with marble walls and tiled floors. The gilded and polished table in the middle of the room was engraved with snarling lions and beneath her slippers spread a crimson carpet embellished with a golden lion. To the left stood high shelves filled with numerous papers, books and letters. _Father’s correspondence_ , she knew. It was a sacred place not meant for the eyes of others. Once she and Jaime had searched through the letters and on the next day both of them had been severely punished. Somehow their father had been able to deduce that they had moved one of his letters from its intended place.

“Good,” her father said and leaned back in his seat, his legs crossed. He looked serious as ever, his golden-green eyes piercing hers across the table. “I need to speak with you about an important matter. The King takes great interest in seeing you appropriately wed…,” her Lord Father trailed off, probably to give her time to take in this piece of information.

Cersei’ heart had nearly stopped. Could it be that the King finally intended to get rid of his wife? Could it be that sickly Princess had died without Cersei’s knowledge? Or perhaps the Princess had simply fallen sick and the King was already planning for a better match?

“Cersei,” her father’s grumbling voice banished away the wonderful dreams overwhelming her mind. “Are you deaf? Did you even hear what I said?”

“I heard you, Lord Father,” she confirmed in a trembling voice, meeting his gaze. She could scarcely breathe. He had always promised her that she would wed the Crown Prince and become his Queen once he wore the crown.

“The Kings wants me to wed?” she asked, her heart bright with hope.

“Indeed,” her father confirmed. “He wants you to wed to one of his most loyal subjects, Lord Jon Connington, the Lord Protector of the Stormlands.”

Cersei felt as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water over her head. She was so shocked that it took a hundred heat beats before she was even able to recall who this Jon Connington was. She had heard his name and she believed to have seen him at court, the memories flowing slowly back into her mind.

“Surely, you are jesting, Lord Father?” she asked, searching his gaze, hoping, no praying that this was nothing more than a bad jest. “Why would the King desire such a match? This Lord Connington is a common lord...,” she voiced her protest, but her father’s sharp gaze silenced her at once.

“He is Lord Protector of the Stormlands,” her father repeated slowly. “Most importantly, he has the King’s trust. He is his confidant and as his wife you will often be at court and in the King’s presence.”

Cersei didn’t understand how this could eradicate Lord Jon Connington’s status, but she tried her best to grasp her father’s reasoning.

“I am a Lannister. I deserve more than that, Lord Father. I deserve at least a Lord Paramount.”

Her father sighed deeply and shook his head.

“Sometimes you really disappoint me, Cersei. Do I have to explain everything to you or are you playing dumb on purpose?”

Cersei felt sudden urge to throw the candles from the table, to still the anger beginning to stir in her chest.

“I am not playing dumb,” Cersei replied through clenched teeth, trying to keep her composure. “But I cannot make any sense of this…I though you wanted me to be Queen?”

“Elia Martell has a rather sickly constitution,” Tywin replied slowly. “It is not impossible that she will die in the near future. Lord Connington might also not live for a long time. The Stormlords are angered about the fate of their liege lord. There is no telling what the future will hold for him. What counts is that you will have access to the King. Surely, in time King Rhaegar will come to appreciate your beauty and then one day you might find yourself conveniently a widow and perhaps a Queen. If this Stark girl can entice him I am sure you are able to do the same.”

Cersei had listened silently, mistrust and hope quarrelling in her chest for dominance. She had seen Lyanna Stark at the tourney in company of her younger brother. She had never seen a filthier girl. Dressed in breeches and a dirty tunic she had strutted around with this crannogman. How the King could have fallen for such a girl was beyond her comprehension, but then being burdened with a sickly wife like Elia Martell must be a great pain. _He must have acted out of pure desperation_ , Cersei was sure and could suddenly see the future in front of her eyes. She would play the wife to Lord Connington, perhaps for a year or two, but once the King grew tired of the Stark girl and his sickly wife was carried off to her grave, then Cersei would rise like the sun to be there to ease the King’s suffering.

Despite all this, she didn’t like the idea of spreading her legs for this Lord Connington.

“If you are so sure about Elia Martell’s impending death I could simply remain unwed for a few more years. Nay, you are not fooling me, Lord Father. There is more.”

In that moment her Lord Father graced her with a piercing look that could have cleaved steel. She knew then that this was her cue to be silent.

“Have you even listened to anything I told you, Cersei?” her father asked impatiently. “While I cannot claim to know the King’s intentions, the fact that he took the Stark girl to bed and intents to legitimize her babe shows me that he is a man thirsting for more heirs of his blood, though I cannot bring myself to fault him for it, given the poor choice Aerys made when he chose his bride. Everyone knows that Elia Martell is barren. She will birth him no more heirs. If the Stark girl can do it so can you.”

Her father had spoken with such conviction that she had a hard time doubting him. _I can do it_ , she thought. _I will make him forget about the Stark girl._

Besides, the King couldn’t be any different than other men. He had a cock and she knew from Jaime how little willpower they had in controlling their urges.

She sighed deeply, imagining how easier it would have been if the King chose her over the filthy Stark girl. _Father would have helped him to kill the Mad King. He had hated him ever since he laid his lewd eyes on my Lady Mother._ Cersei hadn’t been there, but she had once heard her Uncle Kevan speak about it in hushed whispers.

_My mother was such a beauty that even King Aerys ran mad with lust whenever he laid eyes on her. I shall be King Rhaegar’s Joanna Lannister. I shall win his heart._

“Cersei,” her father’s voice called her back to the present. “I have yet to hear your answer.”

Cersei swallowed hard and knew what her father was really trying to say.

_This is your last chance. Make use of it._

“Very well,” she agreed and wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I shall be wed according to the King’s wishes.”

Her father neither smile nor frowned. “Good. I knew you would do your duty.”

 …


	12. Rhaegar

**Rhaegar**

Dragonstone greeted him with a chill that left him shivering from head to toe. Even this thick cloak was no use against the sharp wind, sucking on his skin and hair. Barely a moon ago, a terrible storm had ravaged the entire island. About fourth ships of the royal fleet had been damaged beyond repair and several towns littering the coast of Dragonstone and Driftmark had been ravaged in a matter of a few hours. _The Second Doom_ , Ser Oswell Whent had dubbed the event. Rhaegar had laughed, but that was before he had heard about the damage and had been left fearing for Lyanna and his mother’s safety. Only the raven sent by his Lady Mother had brought him the relief he had been waiting for.

 _A terrible storm had raged for two days_ , his Lady Mother had written. _And during this terrible storm I birthed you a precious little sister, my little Daenerys._

 _Daenerys_ , he had repeated name over and over again. Soon he found a rhythm, a sweet melody befitting his sister. The first Daenerys was said to be gracious and beautiful and Rhaegar hoped this babe would be endowed with the same qualities. Rhaegar had never dreamed of having a living sister. His other sister Shaena had lived not longer than a day. Rhaegar had often wondered if his mother had given all her dead babes names, but then he hardly ever brought up the past in her presence. He hadn’t been there in the birthing chamber, but he knew from her many tears how much the loss of her babes had pained at her. Rhaegar had never found enough proof, but he had always believed that Grand Maester Pycelle had a hand in his mother’s many miscarriages. Bringing the matter to his father’s attention would have most likely cost him his head, which made the Grand Maester’s death all the sweeter for Rhaegar. _May he rot in hell._

“It is good to see you smile, your Grace,” Arthur remarked, his pale hair whipping around his face like threads of spun silver.

Rhaegar nodded his head and sucked in a deep breath. The smell of salt and a brewing storm filled his nose, clearing his lungs from grime of King’s Landing. At once he felt as if a heavy weight had fallen from his shoulders as he laid eyes on the ancient castle built by his forbearers. Dragonstone was a monstrous castle, made of glimmering black stone and decorated with numerous dragons and other monsters, though none of them had ever scared him as much as the Mad King.

 _If I look back I am lost_ , he thought and banished those dark memories away as he climbed up the steep path leading to the gate above. He had travelled in a small retinue, leaving Lord Tywin to sit the throne in his stead, though he also left Lord Connington to keep a close eye on the old lion. _He is my Hand_ , Rhaegar thought wearily. Lord Tywin was a man of great abilities, but that didn’t make him more trustworthy to Rhaegar. _Sadly, I have still need of him._

A sharp gust of wind made his cloak flap like the wings of a bat, but as they rode inside the courtyard the wind died suddenly down, casting the world in sudden silence.

“Rhaegar!” he heard a beloved voice that made his heart burst with happiness. He promptly turned around and there she was, Lyanna as he recalled her from the tourney of Harrenhall. She wore her riding leathers and a pelted cloak was thrown over her shoulders.

She grinned as she climbed down the swirling steps, followed by another familiar face. It was his brother Viserys, his lilac eyes lightening up the moment he laid eyes on Rhaegar.

Yet Rhaegar wasn’t even able to greet his brother, because Lyanna had thrown herself in his arms, her bright laughter echoing over the courtyard.

Rhaegar chuckled as he entangled himself from her embrace and placed a kiss on her lips.

She giggled and shifted her attention to Viserys, who had wrinkled his face in confusion after beholding their display of affection.

“Come here, dear brother,” Rhaegar prodded softly. “Let me take a look at you.”

A ghost of a smile showed on his brother’s lips as he bowed his head in greeting.

“Mother is in bed,” Viserys informed him in a distraught tone. “The babe made her weak.”

Rhaegar nodded his head in confirmation and stroked his brother’ silver locks.

His brother’s birth had been perilous, but Rhaegar had no intention to burden Viserys with this knowledge.  He always had a grim child, though under pressure he was prone to show his temper. His Lord Father’s obsession in keeping him safe had not helped. Viserys had grown up without knowing the company of others. He never had the change to spend much time with other children. _He will resent me for sending him North_ , Rhaegar was sure, but he also believed that seeing other parts of the world might do his brother good. Eddard Stark might not hold much for Rhaegar, but he had no doubt that he would treat his brother with utmost kindness.

“Your mother is already on the way to recovery, my Prince,” Lyanna assured his brother with a warm smile. “Or do you really believe she would ever leave you and your beautiful little sister alone?”

Viserys frowned and scratched his head. “Daenerys looks strange. She is a girl but has hardly any hair. She also cries all the time. I like your babe better, good-sister. At least he sleeps instead of crying all night long.”

“Well, then you are in good company, brother,” Rhaegar added jestingly and started to climb up the steps, leading to a long corridor. ”Because your constant crying used to drive the nursemaids to madness.

“I was not!” Viserys complained promptly and shook his hand. “Mother said I was the sweetest child there ever was! Ask her if you don’t believe her!”

“I will do that, dear brother,” Rhaegar assured him and together they stepped into a long narrow corridor, leading to the Great Hall.

“I forgot to tell you, Ser Arthur,” Lyanna whispered, her gaze flickering from Rhaegar to Arthur. “We have a visitor.”

Arthur gave her a curious look.

“Who could it be?”

“Lady Ashara Dayne is here!” Viserys exclaimed and earned himself a playful slap on the shoulder.

“What did I tell you about spoiling surprises, Vis?” Rhaegar asked.

“I am sorry,” Viserys replied sullenly and rubbed his shoulder as Lyanna explained Lady Ashara’s purpose here. Rhaegar had known about her intentions, but that she would act upon them so quickly was a surprise.

“Lady Ashara brought little Arra here,” Lyanna said. “Truly, she is a bonny little thing and she has grown so much since the last time I laid eyes on her.”

“That she is,” Arthur confirmed and grinned. “I shall be pleased to see my niece.”

“ _Our_ niece,” Lyanna corrected him and chuckled.

“True,” Arthur agreed and together they made their way to his Lady Mother’s chambers. “She is _our_ niece.”

Her mother’s solar was the largest chamber in the keep, but that was only fitting. She had suffered the most under his father’s madness. She deserved peace and quiet as did his other two siblings.

They found his Lady Mother awake. She seated in a large featherbed, a squirming bundle placed in her arms. Rhaegar couldn’t see more than a tuft of silver hair and small fingers clutching on his mother’s silken nightgown.

His mother’s eyes, lovely and bright like purple silk, found his across the room. Rhaegar smiled and embraced her tenderly, before letting go of her. It was only then that he noticed Lady Ashara Dayne’s presence among the ladies seated beside the hearth. She looked much better, her cheeks rosy and a warm smile curling on her lips as she smoothed the unruly brown hair of the little child in her lap.

“Lady Ashara was so kind to pay us a visit,” his Lady Mother informed him promptly. Viserys was already at her side, sinking deep into the featherbed sat down beside their mother. His Lady Mother smiled softly and wound her free arm around Viserys’ shoulder. “She was a comforting presence.”

Lady Ashara, who had long noticed their entrance, smiled and rose to her feet.

“I pleased to be here, your Grace,” she replied politely and handed the girl to Lyanna, before making her way towards Arthur, to place a kiss on his cheek. “But in truth, I came to see Lady Lyanna and my brother. I shall be wed soon and I do not know when I will be able to visit again.”

“I see,” Rhaegar said and couldn’t help but to notice her sad look. “I thank you for coming here,” he added, but paused for a brief moment, pondering what he could reward her for her kindness.

“Your effort demands a reward,” he declared at last and searched Lady Ashara’s face. “Allow us to foster your girl once she is a bit older.”

Lady Ashara gave him a disbelieving look.

“My daughter…,” she began, but Lyanna cut her off, before she was able to protest. “There are those who call my son a bastard. Your daughter’s birth is of no importance to us, my Lady.”

It seemed Lyanna’s words had changed Lady Ashara’s mind, because she lowered her head in acceptance.

“I thank you, your Grace.”

The rest of evening they spent reminiscing about the past. If Lady Ashara Dayne blamed him for the loss of Brandon Stark and the misery that had followed it didn’t show in her demeanour, but then she was too much like Arthur. Lady Ashara was not the kind of person lost herself to dreams of revenge. And yet Rhaegar felt the sharp sting of guilt whenever he looked at Lady Ashara. She deserved more than she got, but what was done could not be undone.

“Lady Ashara is smiling, but deep down her heart is weeping,” Lyanna remarked later in a mournful manner as she leaned over the cradle of their son. Rhaegar understood why she liked looking at him. There was something calming about a sleeping babe. Whenever Rhaegar had been plagued by nightmares he had watched Rhaenys sleep.

“I fear you are right,” Rhaegar added hesitatingly and smoothed his hand over her shoulder. She turned around and smiled at him warmly, her hand covering his. “At least she has her babe.”

“She has her babe,” Lyanna confirmed, her gaze darting back to their son. “She asked me whether Brandon had spoken about her. I confirmed it, but it was a lie. Brandon never spoke of her to me. She also believes that Brandon would have married her and that he was planning to break up his betrothal with Lady Catelyn. I couldn’t bring myself to dash her belief…” she trailed off.

Rhaegar nodded his head, trying to understand her pain.

“Do you think it is possible that your brother intended to through with it?”

Lyanna searched his face and bit her lips.

“I am not sure,” she replied hesitatingly. “My brother was a very passionate man. I can very well imagine that he meant what he said when he proclaimed his love for Lady Ashara, but that doesn’t mean anything. However, I know one thing. Brandon would have taken care of his babe. He was very distraught about the passing of his other two children. He would have made a good father, though I doubt he would have been a good husband to Lady Catelyn. I fear she would have eventually come to resent him.”

“I suppose we will never know,” Rhaegar added and leaned down to kiss her cheek. She chuckled and gave him an enigmatic smile. “So when will I see you again?”

“I cannot say,” Rhaegar replied regretfully. “There is much to do. Ah, I completely forgot…I have something for you, though it has to remain our secret.”

Her eyes glittered brightly and a mischievous smile curled on her lips.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He laughed and went to rummage through his belongings, searching for the gift he had commissioned before departing for Dragonstone. Ever carefully, Rhaegar pulled away the silken cloth and showed her the silver crown wrought in the form of a wreath and engraved with sea blue gemstones that looked like winter roses.

Yet when he looked on her face he saw no smile, tears glittering in her eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” she gasped and caressed the roses with a lover’s touch. “Thank you.”

“You don’t sound very happy,” Rhaegar remarked and was about to place the crown atop her braided hair, but she stopped him.

“I am happy, but it has to remain our secret. _Promise me_.”

He smiled and placed the crown atop her head.

This, time her smile was as bright as a star.

“It will be our secret,” he confirmed gently. “ _I promise_.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ashara Dayne's daughter is named Lyarra, after Brandon Stark's mother. Arra is only her nickname.


End file.
